


Stars, Strays & Saddle Oil

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-10
Updated: 2011-11-11
Packaged: 2018-09-03 00:22:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 41
Words: 58,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8689381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: AU tale of angst in the saddle. (Pun fully intended)





	1. Dean

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

Dean sat at the top of the rise on Chempala, the black stallion with the silver blaze that the old man had given him when he turned eighteen. He sat here today as everyday checking the herd, watching the stock roam, looking for any signs of weakness. It was sometimes easier to see a lame animal from a distance rather than up close as they knocked into each other in close quarters and could limp around a bit until they ‘walked it off’. When the old man had done this duty, there was a complicated series of whistles that the hands knew; each had their own call and whistles to direct them to where they needed to be. Dean was secure enough to admit that he wasn’t anywhere near that sophisticated and just used walkies.

 

“Lucky,” He called for the young ginger riding loosely around the south west quadrant. “We got one on your corner. The big girl that just had her calf.”

 

“Ya ever think it’s because she just had a calf boss?” Lucky joked.

 

“Which is why I’m up here and you’re down there.” Dean tried for reprimand, but knew that all of the men would hear the smile in his voice. If it weren’t for his easy manner with the men, it might have been hard for Dean to be foreman over guys who were as old and older than him who had been doing the same work as long or longer, but he respected their opinions and suggestions and they respected him. It was a lot of the reason that the old man had given him the job when the son went away to school.

 

The old man hadn’t been too happy when his son had said he wanted to go to business school, but when he had been accepted at Harvard who could argue with the kid’s brain. He had promised that he would come back to run the ranch once he had graduated and as the only child, the old man had never been able to refuse him much. His mother had never really recovered from his birth, she had hemorrhaged and there were complications and the possibility of a doctor’s error, but in the end, she had died six months to the day from his birth. He had never known her. The old man had not ever blamed his son, no way he could have prevented it, but there was a sadness in him every time he looked at the boy, which made him grow up a bit maudlin.

 

Every hand on the ranch dreaded having to deal with Samuel Winchester. He was sullen and all business and didn’t tolerate much in the way of discussion. If an animal was lame it was no good and needed to be sent on. No matter that you raised it by hand for the last seven years or whatever your silly story was, black is black and lame beef on the hoof is profit.

 

So it was always more tense when the son was home, when it was Sam who would ride out and check the stock. The old man knew that he had hired all the right people and had them in the right places, but Sam, the heir never had much faith in his father or ‘his people’. His financial genius seemed to make him think that he was smarter about running a ranch than the old man, but what the younger man didn’t understand is that a ranch is about the horses and the cattle and the people who could make those things work well together. Sam had never really tried to make many friends, and strangely growing up on a ranch, he had never really bonded with animals either. No one but Dean.

 

Dean Singer’s father had been a magical man with livestock. When the vet said ‘the calf won’t turn’ you called Bobby Singer and the calf would be turned and fine and momma would be right as rain the next day. Old Man Winchester had come to rely on him so heavily that when the Singer house burned down so soon after his wife’s death, he offered the foreman’s cottage to Singer and his son. Even then, the boy, not even five, had a gift with animals, but unlike many animal people, he related just as well with people and folks just immediately took to him. Even the ill tempered little Sam.

 

Dean somehow knew that it should be his job to take care of the little boy and somehow little Sam knew that he should listen to Dean. When Sam would give orders to the staff, Dean would admonish him with “That’s not how you talk to people Sammy” and the little boy would apologize. But without Dean’s say so, it was all orders and sass.

 

And so the years passed; Dean led with his easy smile and Sam carried on behind, if not happily then with his nose pressed in a book and blessedly quiet. Then Bobby Singer died.


	2. Sam

John Winchester was a kind and mild mannered man. He had spent his whole life on the land with crops and animals and understood easily how nature worked. So when his beloved wife Mary, a slender slip of a girl, had delivered the long, ten pound Samuel, all bends and angles, John hadn’t been surprised at her difficulty. Hadn’t been surprised that the doc had to come, that there had been womanly stuff to fix; worried: yes, surprised: no. When she didn’t get better he worried some more, saw more doctors but when it turned out to be too late, when nothing could save Mary, he mourned, but life had to go on. Particularly a little six month old life.

 

In no way could John Winchester blame his son for Mary’s death, but being John Winchester didn’t prepare him for talking to a boy about feelings either. Even if he had wanted to blame Sam, he couldn’t do it any better than Sam already did. He didn’t quite get Sam and was never sure if Sam really got him either, they were just different, but he hoped that the Silver Escalade he had delivered to Sam’s campus apartment would show the boy that his father was proud of him, even if he didn’t quite understand.

 

* * *

 

As far as graduation presents go, the Escalade wasn’t a bad gesture, but Sam had to admit if his dad had just said ‘Good job’ he would have been just as happy. His father maintained that he didn’t blame Sam for the death of his wife and Sam had never felt that he was being held responsible, but he couldn’t really say that he felt much love from his father either. He knew his father loved him, but his father seemed to love this ranch and cows and horses just as much. Surely, if pressed, the old man could quantify his love for his son as greater, but Sam had never attempted that conversation and wasn’t likely to do so now.

 

What he was looking forward to, of course, was seeing Dean again. The worst thing about being away at school was that he was cut off from his best, maybe only friend. Sam wrote him letters at least once a week, but Dean wasn’t much for writing so he never replied. Phone calls were infrequent because they just never seemed to be able to connect. Sam was in classes all days while Dean was on the ranch and when Sam had time at night, Dean was usually already asleep. Sam grasped so tightly to those infrequent nights when Dean would call, deep in the night, to answer the need that they both felt. As if the darkness would keep their secrets.

 

“Hey Baby.”

 

Shuddering sigh. “Hey, you.”

 

“Is it too late?”

 

“I’m not the one who has to get up in two hours.” The infrequent smile translates down the line. “It’s never too late.”

 

“When are you coming home?” A bit desperate?

 

“There’s reading week next week, then done for good at the end of March.” The answer had been the same for a while now. “Are you okay?”

 

“I just miss you.”

 

Dean’s love always filled Sam up in ways he had no other frame of reference for other than Dean. From those earliest days, Dean had cared in ways no one else had. “I miss you too.”

 

“How much?” Dean smiled; the same test as always.

 

“I miss counting the freckles on your nose. I miss tracing the line of your bicep. I miss the way your thigh rubs my balls when you wrap it around me.” He heard the gasp from the other end of the line.

 

“Oh Sam, that’s better.” He sighed. “Tell me some more.”

 

“I miss the way your hand strokes my cock when you’re playing and I miss the way your hand clutches when you’re not.” He slid his own hand into his boxers. It wasn’t right, the palm too smooth, the fingers too long, but it would have to do. “I miss how you tell me what you want me to do; how you won’t touch me unless I tell you how.”

 

The voice over the line now was low and full of gravel. “Tell me what you’re going to do to me, big fella.”

 

“I miss the way you look at me when I lick your nipples. I miss how I can make you kiss me just by sucking and licking your nipples. I miss how you pull my hair so hard it hurts when you need to kiss me that bad. I miss how I can make your eyes roll back when I tickle that spot right under the head . . .” Sam heard Dean’s grunt of release just as he reached his own. They stayed on the line for long moments just listening to each other breath. “Dean?”

 

“What day next week?”

 

Sam smiled. It would be a long ten days.


	3. Sad Past

Dean’s recollections were broken by Lucky on the walkie. “What time is his highness expected to arrive?”

 

“His Highness could be home right now and listening to your dumb ass in the office.” Dean smiled back and he could hear Ol’ Jer laughing all the way up on the hill.

 

“So glad you guys are so amused by the return of The King.”

 

“I’m not getting into this with you Lucky, especially over the air.”

 

“I’ll never understand why you cut him such slack.” Lucky spoke low.

 

“No, you wouldn’t.” And Dean shut the radio off for a bit.

 

The night his father died had been a rainy cold night in March, one of the mares went into a bad early labor and Bobby just didn’t have enough eyes on her. Her hoof barely left a mark where it grazed his temple with just enough force in just the right place. It was the middle of the night when the old man came and got an eight year old Dean from the little cottage and brought him up to the big house. He carried the boy quietly up to Sam’s room and laid him on the spare bed. Dean’s father had always taught him that no animal would ever harm a person on purpose, so the little boy would never hold this against the mare, but now he was a boy without a daddy and was racked by heaving sobs.

 

While he didn’t normally notice other people’s feelings, little Sam seemed to instinctually know that Dean needed him. Sam had padded out of his own bed and climbed up with Dean and sat there, patting Dean’s head and shoulders until the older boy had fallen into a fitful sleep and he had stayed, just in case. Even in his grief and at his young age, Dean knew that this simple act meant something.

 

There was no one else, no where else for young Dean to go so there had been no argument about him staying right where he was.

 

* * *

 

Ol’ Jer whistled out and Dean looked off due west where a couple of the yearlings were wandering off on their own. Dean gave him a quick signal that he would go get them and for Jer to go back to his position. Ol’ Jer was about three or four years older than himself, but had recently had a son. The night in the tavern after the boy had been born and his name announced as Jeremiah, after his father, one of the boys mentioned that they would need to call him Old Jer now and as happens when a bunch of men spend too much time together, the nickname had stuck.

 

* * *

 

Dean had never fooled himself into believing that he was anything more to the old man than what he was, but he never wanted for anything. He spent most of those next few years as he had been, wrangling Sam and keeping him on the right side of the staff. As the years wore on and Sam would spend more time reading, he went to the barns more and more and on more than one occasion Sam would find him just sitting on a fence watching stock mill around.

 

Sam had no special affinity for animals. Having been raised on the ranch his whole life he was good with animals and liked them just fine, but didn’t share or wholly understand that special bond that men like his father and Mr. Singer and now Dean shared with their four legged assets. He didn’t understand how Dean could just sit there for hours and watch them like he hadn’t seen a cow before. How he could stare into the eyes of a horse and look like he was having an entire conversation; and Sam knew that on some level they were.

 

Dean knew that Sam didn’t quite get it and Dean didn’t understand why the kid was constantly buried in some book, but maybe that was the beauty of how they got along. Neither one of them judged or complained about their differences; they just accepted them. As Dean watched the two yearlings wandering off from the herd not at all worried what might become of them, he smiled at the parallel and then laughed to himself as he thought what Sam might say at being compared to a cow.

 

Dean got the two little girls turned back to the herd and he was really glad that they had been the only challenge so far today, because he still couldn’t bring his mind back to the present.


	4. Thoughts On A Long Drive

Sam double checked the locks on the door as he turned to the Escalade in the cold pre-dawn of Massachusetts. Snow was forecast to be coming across the plains from the west and he hoped to be well south of that before it actually hit. This was going to be a great trip; just south of two thousand miles and just north of twenty four hours with nothing to do or really think about, except Dean. Why in the hell wasn’t he flying?

 

He knew, of course, the reason that the Escalade was delivered here was so that he could move himself part and parcel in the final two trips home. It all made perfect sense; he would be living in his father’s house, so there was no need to keep the household and he wasn’t sentimental enough to have accumulated a lot of stuff. It had all seemed perfectly logical on paper, but now he wasn’t so sure. Twenty six hours of introspection, probably not good.

 

* * *

 

Sam didn’t have any illusions that he was normal by most people’s standards. As a child, his father had sent him into art and play therapy to find out why the little boy didn’t laugh. He didn’t cry either, Sam might have pointed out, if he’d been old enough to know why they were analyzing him, but that might even make it worse. In his teens, all his female teachers seemed to want to know what was wrong with Sam, though the men didn’t seem to care as much.

 

He had always had a mind for business and economics and so logic over emotion made sense to him. From the time he could do math, he was trying to figure out how much it cost to feed a cow or how much the beef was worth. It wasn’t until after he moved away to school and he realized he maybe wasn’t as abnormal as they had all thought. He missed riding a horse, missed the wide open Texas sky, missed seeing stars at night, missed his father . . . really missed Dean. He realized that his emotions weren’t so much non-existent as he was maybe non-communicative.

 

How do you tell a cowboy that he’s the patch for the hole in your soul? He always kind of thought that Dean knew how he felt, always kind of thought he felt the same, but not exactly something you discuss in front of the hands. Now that made him smile. He could just see Lucky’s face if that came up.

 

Sam knew that he was supposed to be ashamed of the way he felt about Dean but after so many years of not feeling much of anything, he just couldn’t seem to deny it. He couldn’t even say why he felt the way he did about Dean. He wasn’t gay, never found himself attracted to other men but the string of pretty girls that he slept with always ended up disappointed since as soon as they got too attached he let them go, knowing he would never give that part of himself to anyone but Dean.

 

When he’d sought out his own therapy here, the counselor hadn’t thought any of this out of the ordinary. Without his mother’s soft influence, his father’s silent grief showed him the only way to deal with thoughts and feelings was to shut them quietly away. Dean never seemed to have those issues and he had grown up without a mom, but then Sam thought he could recall that Bobby had been a soft, huggy dad. And maybe, just maybe, folks were just different.

 

* * *

 

Dean checked his watch, almost lunch time. If he was lucky and he got around city traffic, Sam should be about half way through Maryland by now, if not pulling through Washington. Dean smiled to himself. With the way Sam drove on a good day, he might have already cleared the Capitol, but who knew how many tickets he would end up with when he was in a hurry. Dean knew he wasn’t going to get anything productive done today, but there really wasn’t much to do this time of year anyway. The paperwork would soon be back in Sam’s more than capable hands and Dean could stress less about the balance sheets.

 

Dean didn’t understand why he was so excited. Couldn’t figure out why this time he felt like a love struck teen ager. Why he had missed him so much this year and not so much the other three years he had been away. Maybe because he thought they might actually be able to make a real life this time.

 

* * *

 

The New Year’s Eve party wore on into the night. The entire ranch staff didn’t often get together so when they did, it didn’t usually end before dawn. It wasn’t difficult for Sam and Dean to slip away; no one cared if Sam was there and it was always more fun to party without the boss around. Sam walked a bit straighter than his companion with a bottle of bubbly and a glass in each hand while Dean staggered in and out of groping range.

 

“You’re the one who’s going to be mad if I drop the bottle.” Sam sighed.

 

“You won’t drop it.” Dean smiled.

 

They turned the little bend that blocked the foreman’s cottage from the ranch house and Sam frowned at the smoke coming out of the chimney. “Who’s there?”

 

“No one.” Dean smiled as he walked backwards ahead of Sam. “I ran over and lit it.”

 

“It’s not that cold.” Sam frowned.

 

“It will be when you’re naked.” Dean giggled and ran off ahead.

 

Sam sighed with a tilt of his head and a half smile as he knew he would indulge whatever Dean wanted. It was the holidays, after all.


	5. Recalling New Year's Past

Dinner with the old man wasn’t usually a chore, but for some reason, Dean could hardly manage it tonight. John asked about the stock, particularly the yearlings, how they looked as breeders, their usual business over dinner conversation, but all Dean could think of was whether or not Sam had passed into Tennessee or not yet. Dean couldn’t help the smile that played across his lips when his eyes glanced at the chair that Sam would occupy for supper tomorrow.

 

“I’m going to miss this when he’s home for good.”

 

“Sir?”

 

“Watching you wait for Sam is infectious. Like when you were children at Christmas.”

 

Dean felt the heat rise in his cheeks but thankfully, John wasn’t looking at him, he was too lost in his own recollections. “Sam was young and should have been excited, but you always had to go wake him up to see what Santa brought him.” Dean smiled at the memory. “And you were always more excited to see what he got than anything that came your way.”

 

“I always figured someday you would get some reaction out of him.” Dean smiled.

 

“I’ve only ever wanted to see him happy.” John spoke sadly and Dean didn’t know if he was supposed to respond or not. “I never blamed him for his mom’s death, he says he knows that, but I don’t know any other reason for him to be so sad.”

 

A long awkward silence hung between them until finally Dean smiled. “I’m sure he’ll be happy when he’s foreman of the ranch sir.”

 

John’s head snapped as if he were struck. “What are you talking about?”

 

“Well surely when Sam’s back, you’ll turn the running of the ranch over to him.”

 

“I don’t intend to do any such thing.” John smiled. “I intend to make him the business manager with a salary commensurate with his education but there won’t be any business to run if you’re not there to deal with the people, boy.” Dean’s expression went blank as he considered that. “I can see Sam negotiating a deal with the feed store, but can you really see Sam dealing with Lucky’s inevitable drinking binges when he’s breaking horses.” Dean actually thought about that for a full minute before the laughter ripped out of him. “But you know that there’s no one we would rather have breaking horses.” Dean wasn’t sure that there couldn’t be a lower price to pay to get horses, but he understood the point John was trying to make. There was no school out there that could teach Sam the people skills that came to Dean like breathing.

 

* * *

 

After another rubber burger in Knoxville, Sam couldn’t wait to get back to real free range beef. Hell he couldn’t wait for Mrs. Gooding’s wall paper paste oatmeal and he didn’t think anything short of actual starvation could do that. He would soon have to decide if he was going to stop and sleep or just caffeinate and drive on through.

 

Unbidden, his mind returned to the foreman’s cottage on a cool December night. Dean hadn’t been actively living there since Sam had gone on to school, both he and the old man preferring that he stay at the main house for company, but he’d apparently been down to decorate.

 

There was a modest Christmas tree traditionally dressed which Sam suspected was purchased that way. The healthy fire crackled in the fireplace with large pillar candles lit on the mantle and around the hearth. The comfy chair and coffee table had been rearranged back from the front of the fire because the big sheepskins lay there in the center of the room.

 

Dean was still bouncing on the balls of his feet waiting for Sam’s reaction and was rewarded with Sam’s smile; the only person who ever saw that beautiful smile. But then there was laughter in San’s eyes and Dean steeled himself for what was to come. “You know for such a macho cowboy, you’re just a huge girl.”

 

Dean turned his hurt expression away. “Bite me.”

 

Sam had pushed Dean firmly into the corner that he wanted and wrapped his arms slowly and tightly around that slim waist, nestling his chin into the crook of that neck taking a deep breath. “But you’re my girl.” He purred with a smile. Dean tried to pull away, possibly truly insulted, possibly playing the game, but Sam held tight and he only succeeded in stretching his neck out. Sam laid soft kisses along the tendon there and felt Dean virtually melt in his arms.

 

Dean stopped fighting but stayed back to Sam’s front, enjoying the growing arousal against the back of his own jeans. Sam’s left hand snaked its way under Dean’s clothes, all tickling fingers and warmth, to lie against the flat tummy while his right traced up across the line of his lover’s jaw, pulling those lips to him for the kiss they had waited all night for. He ran his hand all over Dean’s face and through his short hair, never once letting go of the hand across his belly.

 

“Sam, I can’t touch you.” Dean gasped breathlessly, Sam didn’t respond. “Sammy, I need to touch you.”

 

Still too wrapped up in his own sensations, Sam still didn’t let go so Dean smiled to himself. He took his empty hands to his own belt and opened the big heavy buckle, starting to slide the zipper down. “Oh no you don’t.” Sam spun him around taking his face in both of those big hands and Dean didn’t care because it got him what he wanted.

 

Dean was careful with the silk western style shirt that Sam wore, his chuckle escaping against Sam’s lips. “What’s so funny?”

 

“I may be a girl,” Dean began, a little true hurt in his voice. “But at least I’m not an urban cowboy.”

 

“Dad bought me this shirt.” Sam defended as his fingers now worked the buttons on Dean’s dress shirt.

 

“And your father has such impeccable taste.” Dean said of the man they both knew could make jeans and t-shirt look mismatched.

 

With both of their shirts now pooled on the floor Sam reached his big hands around, grabbing Dean’s ass and pulling their denim clad cocks against one another. “Do you really want to keep talking about my father?”

 

* * *

 

Sam started looking for a Starbucks.


	6. Homecoming

Sunday. Dean’s day off. He was thankful too because if he hadn’t been much good at work yesterday, he was virtually useless today. It was also Mrs. Gooding’s day off so it had become customary for Dean to make breakfast. The self sufficient farm made all their own sausage and grew their own chickens and usually kept one Holstein for milking and Mrs. Gooding always made sure there was a jar of her homemade preserves or jam, so breakfast was a connoisseur’s dream. The ranch did, however, spend a fortune on the good orange juice.

 

Over sausage for Dean and bacon for John, both eggs over easy and generous slices of homemade bread slathered with home churned butter and piled with strawberry jam Sunday’s usual conversation played as every other Sunday.

 

“Are you coming to church, boy?”

 

“Just the cathedral of the sky sir.”

 

Every Sunday John asked, every Sunday Dean refused. It was usually his day to himself and he would ride out in the morning, not returning until the evening. Spending a day with his horse on the land that he loved was as close to God as Dean ever expected he would be.

 

“You’re not going out riding today, are you?”

 

“No, I’ll be waiting around, but there’s a few things Mrs. Gooding needs me to tend to.”

 

“But it’s your day off.”

 

“It’s not much, keep me busy for an hour or so.”

 

“All right boy.” John smiled. “She’s going to church with me and then I think she wants to do a bit of shopping so I may take her out to lunch too.”

 

“Good enough sir.” Neither of them mentioned Sam’s arrival and Dean couldn’t place why, he just didn’t.

 

* * *

 

Dean cleaned up the kitchen, putting the dishes in the dishwasher, the one convenience Mrs. Gooding had demanded. Dean smiled. It sort of amused him how John Winchester took care of his orphans.

 

The housekeeper before Mrs. Gooding was a widower who lived in the little cottage rent free and earned about half a regular salary. Brian Gooding had been a mechanic who worked in town, but took care of all of the ranch’s vehicles. He and his wife, Carol were only about ten years older than John and Mary and had been good friends, going to dances, playing cards, the women crafting and baking together. When the old housekeeper had died suddenly, Carol took the position and they moved into the cottage, but John insisted that Carol take a full salary and Brian did his duties for the rent of the cottage. John insisted that it worked out better for him on the books and no one argued with John.

 

At twenty eight, cancer came for Brian Gooding and took him blessedly quickly. Even at speed, the disease ravaged the strong, good looking mechanic into a terrible shell of what he had previously been. John and Mary did all they could for Carol, but she mourned and was never the woman she had been until Mary died. Something about watching John’s grief galvanized her out of her own and she tried to mother the little baby who would resist all mothering.

 

Then came Dean. Though he would forever call her Mrs. Gooding, despite her pleas otherwise, she was the figure of the mother that he had never known. In their earliest childhood, they were like a line, wherever Mrs. Gooding went, Dean would follow, watching everything she did, with little Sam behind, either watching Dean or nose to a book. She taught Dean to churn the butter, knead the dough, hull the berries, peel the apples. Sam read the recipes, measured ingredients. Always a doer and a thinker.

 

While the village talked, John and Carol never listened. Dean had no idea if they sought solace together at nights, but they did day things together like church on Sundays, shopping and lunch occasionally. John bought her little gifts and she made him special deserts. Dean had often wondered why they didn’t take the step, there wouldn’t be any disgrace in it; he suspected they still just couldn’t be untrue.

 

Carol walked in the back door at that moment giving Dean his customary kiss on the cheek. “I’m planning a prime rib for our boy for six, Dean, will that be enough time?”

 

Dean frowned, not entirely sure why the question would be asked quite that way. “He should be home and rested, sure.”

 

“Are you riding today?”

 

“No, I’m going up to fix that back step of yours and then I’ll see to Chempala, but I’ll just send him out on his own I think.”

 

John came down at that moment in his Sunday best and gave Dean a wave goodbye. “Morning Carol.”

 

“Morning John.” She smiled; a contented sight and then kissed Dean on his other cheek as she followed John out to the truck. “Have a good day, son.”

 

It was as if they knew something.

 

* * *

 

The Escalade pulled in the lane of the ranch on fumes, Sam reluctant to take even that extra five minutes for one last fill up. He pulled in the drive and started grinning despite himself. He passed the ranch house on his right, the garages on his right and followed the lane on through. He passed Mrs. Gooding’s cottage, on the right nestled in the cut of the hill, but knew that she would be at church with John. There was a warm feeling in the bottom of his stomach as he passed the foreman’s cottage around the bend to the left, at the top of a rise that had a view of the horse barns and paddocks below. He decided to park here and walk down and hopefully surprise Dean.

 

It was unseasonably warm today, so by the time Dean had put all the horses feed out and sent them all into the coral, he was warm enough to take his shirt off to wash Chempala down. He wasn’t like the other horses. He was a Dean only horse so Dean let him out in the fields and he would just gallop and run for the sake of running, like a horse was meant for, but as soon as Dean whistled he dutifully came back to the barn for a good wash down. When Sam came around the corner a sweaty Dean lathered his sweaty horse and Sam cock twitched almost painfully in his too tight jeans. He watched for as long as he could stand it, making sure that Chempala wouldn’t be put up wet before he finally spoke.

 

“Well, if that isn’t the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He growled from the door of the barn.

 

Dean’s breath caught in his throat. “How long have you been watching me?”

 

“Long enough to know we’re not getting anywhere near the sheepskins right now.” In about two strides each, they were wrapped around each other, kissing, stroking, licking, grabbing, sucking, tasting, groping. Sam took Dean’s face in his two big hands and held him out where he could look into his eyes, those green pools that had sustained him all these years. “I missed you so much.”

 

“Really?” Dean sighed with a grin as he pushed his thigh up against Sam’s hardness. “I hadn’t noticed.”

 

A look passed across Sam’s face. Had he just made a fool of himself? Was this not the same for Dean? Had Sam just driven thirty straight hours to be back in the arms of someone who didn’t want him?

 

Dean frowned at the look on Sam’s face. What was going through that crazy cranium? Was it time? Had something finally happened to Sam? Dean did the mental math and realized that Sam hadn’t stopped for more than an hour or two of sleep and then he knew what that look was. Sam was talking relationship here and he had just laughed it off like it was a summer fling. Just as Sam started to pull away, the shutters closing over his eyes, Dean reached up, his right hand snaking into the too-long-in-the-back hair and pulled him in for a kiss as his left held him firmly in the small of his back. “Baby, I missed you too.” He leaned back to look into Sam’s eyes. “I love you Sammy.”


	7. Saddle Oil

Tears welled up in the younger man’s eyes and he swallowed hard, nodding his head at Dean. He couldn’t say it yet, the words caught behind the lump in his throat, but it had been time; time for Dean to take that step and Sam’s words would come. Sam fell upon his lips and took Dean’s breath from him.

 

Before he knew what was happening, Dean was up against the wall in the tack room the plank wall rough against his skin, but Sam’s soft lips on his made sure he didn’t care. Dean found his hands tangled in his lovers hair again as he pulled Sam ever closer. “I’ve loved you for so long.” He smiled and Sam’s bright beaming smile answered him as he fumbled with Dean’s belt. “But I didn’t dare dream that you might feel the same.” Sam’s tongue looped and lapped around his own as if to tell him to shut up, but he just moaned and broke the kiss to drop to his knees. He didn’t even bother taking his jeans all the way down, just pulled the beautiful hard cock from his shorts. He took a big lollipop swipe up the bottom of Dean’s hardness and looped his tongue around the head swooping through the slit at the top; a move that had Dean’s hips shaking in no time. Dean stroked and massaged through Sam’s hair and finally, reluctantly, pulled his lover from his cock. “Baby, you’re going to make me come and I don’t want to come that way.”

 

Sam hadn’t spoken since he had arrived and now his voice was so deep and throaty that it might have belonged to someone else. “I’ll make you come any way you want, baby, just tell me what you want.”

 

“I want you inside me.” Dean began looking around the tiny room for a best place scenario. He hated bent double, especially today; he needed to see Sammy’s eyes. Then his eyes lit on every cowboy’s fantasy; his saddle. It lay across the metal polishing rack and with a slight shift Sam could lay comfortably into the nook of the joining walls. Before chucking his jeans off, Sam withdrew a container of lube from his pocket. “You didn’t come here just to get laid, now did you Sammy?” Dean smiled.

 

“Not just, no.” Sam growled low before Dean engulfed his throbbing cock in that beautiful mouth. Sam reached over and ran his big hand down over the perfect curve of Dean’s cheeks giving him a little squeeze now and again and then pushed his middle digit past that tight ring of muscle and resistance. Dean made some noise deep in his throat, but it just meant that his throat did something delicious against Sam’s cock and he cried out. Dean heard the lid on the lube open and then the cool addition of a second digit. At this rate neither of them would last long. Sam got the two working pretty well but Dean pulled off before he could get the third. He took the container from Sam and stroked some on to his cock as he kissed him and then looked deep in his eyes. “I need you now.”

 

They laced their hands together, but Sam couldn’t resist. “Well mount up cowboy.”

 

“Really?” Dean shook his head. “You’re going to cheapen the moment with bad porn dialogue?”

 

Sam smiled. “I’ve had like two hours sleep. You’re lucky you’re getting conscious.”

 

Dean was so ready for this, had been for so long, that there was little natural resistance and with gravity’s help, Sam was buried deep in no time. Dean was in sensory overload. Feeling Sam, smelling Sam, the warm leather on his ass, the smell of the saddle oil, the smell of hay, the shuffling of his horse, Sam’s long cock filling him up, his cock rushing to release. He took Sam’s face in his hands and looked deep into his eyes as he ground his hips down onto his lover. “I will be your cowboy, I’ll be your girl; I’ll be anything you want, just so long as I’m your something.”

 

Sam snatched that fat bottom lip in his teeth and pulled him into a breath stealing kiss. He took hold of Dean’s cock between them and stroked once, twice, three times and Dean gasped, a sure sign that he was right there. Sam wrapped his other arm across Dean’s shoulder and lifted right up into him. “You are,” he punctuated his thrusts with two words. “My . . . everything.” And he buried his face in Dean's neck as they came together in a blinding flash of fireworks which may have only been in Sam's head.


	8. Home Cooking

Dean rolled over and up on his elbow and considered their afternoon. While watching Sam lounge back on his saddle had been sexy as hell and Dean wasn’t sure he would ever lose that visual, it wasn’t very comfortable for a guy who had spent thirty hours or so driving.

 

They made it back as far as the foreman’s cottage and Sam had crashed out on the sheepskins before he had even got his boots off. Dean took his off and then Sam’s though he didn’t move but he was pretty sure he could shave Sammy’s head and he wouldn’t notice. Dean peeled both of their jeans off and fell asleep there on the sheepskins rolled up against Sam’s back wrapped around his prize.

 

Dean woke up a few hours later, their positions reversed, with a hand on his cock and a shaft rubbing his ass. “I was just thinking about you.” Sam purred in his ear.

 

“No really.” Dean smiled.

 

“It doesn’t matter now; I can’t sleep with a hard on so how do you want to come this time Baby?”

 

Dean moaned quietly in his throat. He hated to admit, but it was totally hot when Sam talked like that. Dean rolled over and gave him a deep kiss and warm smile before he did a weird little somersault and taking Sam in his mouth, while presenting himself.

 

“Ooooh, double the pleasure.” Sam mumbled, still groggy.

 

It was quick and dirty with no finesse, just release and while it was an enjoyable interruption to the nap, Dean had to laugh since Sam was back to sleep before Dean was spooned back into his lover’s chest.

 

 

So Dean lay here propped up on his elbow watching Sam sleep with a smile on his face. After all these years there was finally something to make Sammy smile and Dean didn’t have any idea if they’d be able to keep it up. Dean could move back in here he supposed, give them am illicit meeting place, but how long would they be able to keep that up before someone like Lucky found out and then the whole village would know about those Winchester boys. Dean knew in his heart that he could care less about what the village thought about anything, but John and Carol and Sammy all had to live here too. The carriage clock over the mantle chimed the half and Dean leaned over placing kisses up the line of Sam’s jaw.

 

“You’re insatiable.” Sam grinned before he opened his eyes. “Can’t a guy get some sleep around here?”

 

“Very funny. I’m not the guy who can practically give head in his sleep.”

 

Sam chuckled. “So that wasn’t a dream.”

 

“No.” Sam reached up and pulled Dean down for a kiss, his hidden hand with other ideas. “Hey.” Dean jumped. “No. Not now, big dinner, prime rib.” Sam was still trying to gain the upper hand, as it were, until Dean said prime rib. Prime rib meant Yorkshire puddings and black gravy and herb roasted vegetables and food like he hadn’t had in months.

 

“Last one to the shower gets to wash my back.”

 

“Oh really?” It was really easier to scramble and fight dirty when there were clothes to pull back on, and in the end, Dean got to wash Sam’s back, but maybe, just maybe he lost on purpose.

 

* * *

 

Carol Gooding wasn’t sure who heard it first, but she and John seemed to look at each other at the same time. Sam . . . laughing. They looked at each other dumb struck for a long moment and then Carol smiled. Not her public Sunday-going-to-church smile; not her grocery-clerks-bad-day smile; but the smile John remembered from those days long ago when Carol and Mary would organize the village dance for the end of the harvest season or planting or some such and they laughed and danced until dawn. It was all too much for John. His son, his only son, his whole reason to keep going all these years, happy for the first time, bringing happiness to his dearest friend after so many, many years of grief.

 

There were tears in John’s eyes when the door opened and Sam strode through. After only the briefest moment during which both men knew that things had changed, that conversations would be had, that tears would be shed, they were in each other’s arms. “It’s so good to be home Dad.”

 

Dean skirted the reunion and draped an arm across Mrs. Gooding’s shoulder. She beamed at him through a veil of her own tears. “It’s a miracle.”

 

“No. It’s just . . . about time.”

 

* * *

 

They were pushing their time limit, but Sam still refused to get back in the truck. After all that time, no measure of luxury vehicle is comfortable.

 

“Well we sure don’t want to do anything that might make it hard for you to sit down, now do we?” Dean smacked his ass and then danced out of range.

 

Sam watched him jump around like a kid and laughed out loud. “What, are you twelve?”

 

“Oh, I’m a twelve all right, but you already knew that.”

 

Sam shook his head with a weary smile. He adored this man with all his cowboy bravado, bad jokes and closet romance. Considering the journey Sam had already taken in himself to get here, the real journey from here on couldn’t be any less than interesting.

 

The back door of the ranch house opened into the laundry room which had a powder room off to the right. What Sam noticed first was the smell; fresh towels in the linen closet; Mrs. Gooding’s cooking from the kitchen and beyond that the crackling fire. It smelled like home. He smiled.

 

He came through into the kitchen where the big table was already set. John rose to greet him and there were tears in the old man’s eyes. Sam looked at his father and wanted to tell him ‘don’t cry dad, it’s all good’ but then he realized that’s what the tears were for. About a hundred things went through his mind to say right here, but he knew now was not really the time and place. He threw his arms around his father, for the first time that he could remember. “It’s so good to be home Dad.” They stayed that way for a long moment, until, wordlessly, John broke the contact, nodding back the tears still in his eyes. Sam looked for Dean for a little support and saw him and Mrs. Gooding still beaming across at them.

 

“What? It’s like you never saw a guy hug his dad before.” Sam smiled taking the two strides to wrap the housekeeper in his arms.

 

She reached up and took his face in her two tiny hands. “Welcome home.” He smiled at her with a nod of his head. “Did you boys wash for dinner?”


	9. Family Confessions

John couldn’t remember the last time he heard laughter around his dinner table and he liked it. He watched Sam and the easy smile he had for Dean and it wasn’t hard to figure out what was going on. He knew that he was a lot more than partly responsible for the cool, strange boy Sam had always been, but it was clear that Dean was entirely responsible for this change. It was going to take some getting used to; his boys together . . . that way. Was he okay with it? In twenty five years he had never heard his son laugh like this, seen that special glow in his eyes. Was it worth what they would have to suffer through in a little Texas town? If it was up to him, he would say yes, and as much as he would back any fight they chose, he knew it had to be up to them.

 

* * *

Dean couldn’t stop smiling. Sam was telling them about the people he came across in the east and, as happens in most country homes, (and probably vice versa in city homes), there was much laughter at the ‘strangers’. It was fairly obvious that while Sam could muddle through in the city and he would have been able to work for any number of big city corporations, he would be the one guy asking for the assignment to anywhere that he could find fresh air over a Starbucks. He had to admit though, he was curious.

 

“So I was thinking that Sam could fly back on Sunday and then I could drive his truck up and get him when he’s done.” Dean smiled. “See where he’s been hiding out all this time.”

 

“That fine with me.” John answered. “It’s not like you don’t have any holidays coming to you.”

 

Sam only smiled while the other two chuckled; Dean shrugged. It was a running joke that Dean never stopped working, never left the ranch. Even on his day off he still mucked out the barns, fed the horses the daily farm chores. “I’ve never had anywhere to go.” He grumbled.

 

“You really want to come to Cambridge? It’s a lot of concrete, not a lot of stars and sometimes it smells bad.” Sam smiled.

 

“Well, it could be my last chance to see the ocean.” Dean looked across the table and caught Sam’s eye and saw in there any number of places that Sam wanted to take him. He smiled a little knowing smile. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he noticed a flush in Mrs. Gooding’s cheek, glanced at the placid smile on John’s face and he smiled to himself; pretty sure that they were caught, at least at this table.

 

Then John confirmed it.

 

“I’m sure you boys will see all the oceans if you want.” With all attention on him, John suddenly had to pay close attention to cutting his mashed potatoes. “You’ll do anything you set your minds to as long as you do it together.”

 

* * *

 

Carol Gooding wanted to jump up and say ‘Amen!’ but she was pretty sure that would be going a bit too far at this early stage. She had always marveled at the connection between the boys; the way that the only one who had ever been able to get through to Sam was Dean. When Brian had died, she knew that she would never have children of her own and she had made her peace with that. But when Mary had died, she tried so hard to mother the poor little boy, but no matter how hard she worked at it, most of the time she had to get Dean to intervene.

 

Now Dean, Dean had no trouble taking a little mothering. After Bobby had passed Dean would come into the kitchen and curl up in the rocking chair by the woodstove and just wait until she was done whatever she was doing so that she would come over and rock him. He followed her for years and he had always come to her to talk about everything. She had no trouble believing that it was finally his loving devotion that had somehow gotten through to Sam and she wasn’t one to question a good thing. She didn’t envy them their road ahead. It would be hard and likely harder on the sensitive Dean than the stoic Sam, but she hoped that they would be able to temper each other and keep the balance.

 

* * *

 

There were a few moments during that dinner that Sam had to actively swallow down the surge of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He didn’t one hundred percent understand what had finally unblocked the spaces in his heart, but here he was. He felt so open and vulnerable to these people and they hadn’t even confessed their big secret. He watched his father cutting his beef into perfect squares before eating and felt an overwhelming wave of love for the man even though he could hardly even say that he knew him. There was something he would have to remedy starting tomorrow.

 

And Mrs. Gooding. He didn’t think all the flowers in the world could even begin to repay her or apologize for all she had given him or he had put her through all these years. No matter how hard he had tried to shut her out, she had never stopped trying to get through. He ached now thinking of the hard times that they could have saved each other from, the sorrow and loss. Just as his eyes started to well up, they shot open as Dean’s foot was suddenly in his crotch. He looked across to his lover who had a big grin on his face, but did not betray what he was up to elsewhere. The eyes said ‘not here, not tonight’.

 

* * *

 

After Mrs. Gooding’s apple pie and peach cobbler, the boys volunteered to clean up the kitchen while the elders moved to the front parlor, John taking his well worn leather chair, Carol the pretty floral wing chair. Sam smiled. After all these years, the same routines, the same comfortable places, but there were so many things that made tonight feel different. He watched as Dean took the dirty dishes from him to place in the dishwasher. There was such a look of contentment there that Sam couldn’t say had always been there.

 

“Are you ready to shake this up?”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“Are you ready to confess our big secret? Because you know, once that cat’s out of the bag, there’s just no going back.”

 

Dean stood up straight with a smile from ear to ear. “Sammy, I’ve been waiting for about ten years to get your cat out of the bag so if you really think I’m going to let you even try to put it back then you’re crazy.”

 

Sam chuckled with a shake of his head. “And you’re ready to do this here?”

 

“Where else?” Dean asked, a note of concern creeping in. Was Sam having second thoughts?

 

“Baby, I could be content to take you anywhere to be with you, but we both know you’ll only ever live here.” He sighed, taking Dean’s hands in his own. “It’s not going to be easy for us here. You know that.”

 

Dean sighed. Was that all? “I know.” He chewed the side of his cheek, making his decision. “Do you think it’s been easy for me to wait? Don’t you think the village already asks the questions that you’re thinking? Do you really think I care?” Sam smiled. “There are three people’s opinion that I care about and one of them I’m pretty sure I already know and if you will quit stalling with these dishes we can go find out the others.”

 

Sam dropped his hands and took Dean’s face in his hands and kissed him deep and slow. “You’re absolutely amazing.”

 

“It sure took you long enough.”

 

* * *

 

The boys turned the corner, each with two cups of coffee in hand putting the second beside one of the elders.

 

“Thanks Sam.” Carol said tucking her knitting back into the basket beside her.

 

“No problem. What are you knitting?” He asked absently; the basket huge and unwieldy; had obviously been there for quite a while.

 

“Hats and mittens for the church. I do them all year.”

 

“Oh.” Sam turned to go to the sofa and noticed the curious look on Dean’s face. So the coziness in here was new too. He settled himself on the big sofa at the opposite end from dean, their feet twining comfortable between them. “Well Dad, Carol, we have something that we want to talk to you about.”

 

“What is it son?” John asked with anticipation, and did Carol just scoot to the front of her seat?

 

Sam smiled; the vibe he got at the dinner table clearly more than a vibe. “Dean and I have been seeing each other for about nine months now,” He paused and took a deep breath. “And with me coming home, we’re going to be looking to make a life together.”

 

John just nodded his head seriously and Sam and Dean exchanged glances in case they hadn’t read this situation correctly. It took a long time but finally John spoke with a smile. “Moving in here or down at the cottage?”


	10. Checking Fences

Walking back to the cottage after another hour or so of congratulations, planning and discussions, Sam noticed that Dean was quiet. Quiet, for Sam had been a way of life for so long that he knew all the symptoms. “Dean?” He reached out and grabbed a hand. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing.” He squeezed the big hand in his and then reconsidered his answer. “Do you really not want to live here?”

 

Sam bristled at that. “Dean, this is my home, of course I want to live here.”

 

“Then I’m just wondering why would you suggest somewhere else?”

 

“It’s just the coward’s answer.” Sam smiled. “It’s much easier to be the gay strangers than the local boys who just decide to make a huge ‘life change’.”

 

Dean laughed. “I guess I see your point.” The bounce returned to his step. “So, are you going to carry me over the threshold?”

 

* * *

 

Sam rode out with Dean the next morning. They were a little later than Dean’s usual, but he had prepared the chore list for the hands up at the office in the stable so he wasn’t surprised when none of them were around. Carol had packed them a big box lunch which Dean refused to call a picnic and Sam constantly referred to a picnic just to see the look on his face.

 

Sam had given up his own horse since he had gone to school and it was now John’s. Whether or not the person who rides them notices or not, a horse builds a bond with its person. If he was going to actually work the ranch, and not just the desk in the office, Dean joked, he would have to get a new horse. The hands usually had one or two horses that they had a special bond with but would ride any of the stable.

 

Dean saddled him a bay gelding with a sweet disposition that wouldn’t give him too much trouble. “Seriously, Dean, I can still manage the saddle.”

 

“Ohhhh, I know that.” Dean leered at him.

 

“Oh shut up.” Sam smiled. “I rode at Christmas; I haven’t forgotten everything that I’ve always known.”

 

“All right, tomorrow you’re on your own.”

 

Dean saddled Chempala and led him out to the yard where Sam was atop the big bay, stroking its neck and talking nothings to it. Dean felt a warm spot growing in his belly. When Sam’s legs were wrapped around him he could swear that they were the reason he was so tall. Seated on a horse looking the definition of cowboy, however, you would swear all six four of the man rose up from that perfect ass.

 

“What?” Sam asked, a little uncomfortably, when he noticed Dean staring.

 

“Well, if that isn’t the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Dean sighed stealing Sam’s line.

 

Sam blushed a little, not so anyone else would notice, but Dean did. “Are we going to work today or not?”

 

“Don’t tempt me.”

 

“What are we doing?”

 

“Fences.” The short answer for riding any number of perimeters around the property and making sure that the fences were all in good repair.

 

“In other words, you missed your ride yesterday so you want to go riding today.”

 

“Well so much for the discovery portion of this relationship; you already know me so well.” Dean grinned.

 

“I think we still have plenty to discover.” Sam clicked his tongue and nudged his mount to the gate. “Which way are we going?”

 

* * *

 

They mostly rode in companionable silence both of them just enjoying being together in their own way. Dean was pretty sure if the man in the sky called him home tomorrow, he could be content that this was the happiest day of his life. He had everything that he could possibly want. He finally had the love he had been waiting all these years for, he had his ‘parents’ approval of his choices, he had the best horse and he rode the wide open spaces of one of the best ranches in Texas. What more could a country boy hope for?

 

* * *

 

Sam watched Dean as much as he could. The truth of the matter was Sam couldn’t even imagine taking Dean away from here for more than a vacation. Dean was born to and for this land and there was a special glow to him when he was out here. They’d been riding for about two hours before Sam couldn’t take it anymore. “Can we take a break?”

 

“Saddle sore already Sam?” Dean laughed, drawing the stallion to a halt.

 

“Not exactly.” Sam growled, low in his throat, palming his crotch.

 

Dean’s mouth watered despite himself. “Oh, that kind of break.” Dean had considered this possibility, perhaps even hoped for it, but thought that taking a bedroll out might be too obvious so he had grabbed a clean horse blanket instead.

 

“You country boys always think of everything.” Sam wrapped his arms around Dean from behind, nestling his chin into the shoulder.

 

“Actually,” Dean turned into his lover’s arms. “It’s probably more an indication that I’m thinking of only one thing.” He teased the back of his knuckles across Sam’s denim clad cock. “You carrying this around just for me, big fella?”

 

Sam’s answer was a racy smile as he leaned in to capture Dean’s breath in a deep kiss. “Well I never carried it for any other man.”

 

Dean pulled back in shock to look at Sam’s whole face, thinking there had to be a smirk in there somewhere. “What?”

 

Sam suddenly felt self conscious and wouldn’t quite meet Dean’s eyes. “You’re the only man I’ve ever been with.” He reached out and took Dean’s hand gently in his own. “The only man I’ve ever wanted to be with.”

 

“Wow.” Dean turned away, but didn’t release the hand holding his. “No pressure here or anything.”

 

“Dean, do we have to analyze this now?”

 

“And if we don’t?” Dean squeezed the hand before pulling away. “And you decide that this isn’t what you want? Where does that leave me?”

 

Sam’s voice was small and shaky when it came. After all this time he was finally happy and just as suddenly as he had found it, it looked like he might lose it. “Dean, of all people, you know how I was before we found this between us. I never had problems finding girlfriends but I never found one who made me feel even remotely the way you do.” He blinked hard as he looked upwards, willing the tears not to fall. “And how could I be attracted to Ivy League prep boys when they clearly aren’t you?”

 

As the moment dragged on and on, Sam willed his heart not to break, just to give Dean another moment. Finally Dean turned back to him, the tell tale streak of a tear tracing down his cheek. Then he smiled. “Now who’s the girl?”

 

* * *

 

Sam dropped to his knees whether thanking God or begging Dean, he didn’t know, didn’t care as long as he never lost what he had.

 

Sam opened Dean’s belt and drew the zipper down with such reverent anticipation that Dean thought he might just come from the visual. He was mentally kicking his own ass for pulling such a shitty thing on Sam, realizing that he had completely over reacted to Sam’s revelation. Just because Dean had these feeling for Sam since he knew what these feelings meant didn’t mean that it was wrong that Sam hadn’t. It shouldn’t take a psych degree to figure that at least part of what had made Sam so unreachable for all those years could have been him trying to fit himself into the mold he thought he was supposed to fit into.

 

Sam’s hands slowly drew the denim down caressing his hands down the back of Dean’s powerful legs. As Sam wrapped his hand around Dean’s swollen shaft, Dean suddenly pulled away. Sam looked up stricken but Dean just stroked his hand down Sam’s cheek as he dropped to his own knees. “No Baby, no tops, no bottoms today. Partners.”

 

Dean showed Sam what he wanted and laced their two hands together around both of their hard cocks. Their free hands roamed and explored. Dean ran his hand up Sam’s jaw and Sam nuzzled down into it.

 

Sam was reveling in the sensations he was feeling. Differences in their textures, temperatures, tempos, it was all magnified by their sensitivity to each other. It was all gentle caresses, slow friction and it built in both of them so slow that it was almost a surprise when Sam’s breath caught in his throat. “Dean, I think I’m going to . . .”

 

“Me too. Stay with me.” He buried his face in Sam’s neck and rocked against him a little faster and then with a final squeeze of Dean’s fingers they came together in a slippery, sticky mess. They leaned against each other for a long moment, both breathing the scent of the other.

 

“I don’t suppose the prepared country boy remembered a towel?”


	11. Not Business As Usual

After a week under the wide open sky, with spring coming, the return to Cambridge felt unwelcome and confining. Sam had enjoyed his years here but with his newly rediscovered love of fresh air and freedom he didn’t know if he could stand much more higher learning. Had to admit he felt like a pretty big girl virtually crossing off the days until Dean came to get him and he could go home for good.

 

He had spent most of Tuesday getting to know John. John kept trying to stay with safe topics and discuss the ranch and what he wanted from Sam, but Sam just asked him questions about his mom and his childhood and the men were a laughing, teary mess by the time Carol brought them lunch. Wednesday he spent with his dad’s lawyers and the bankers getting his face out there and getting all of the paperwork in order for Sam to become an official employee of his own ranch. He had chuckled at that. The bureaucracy of business and accounting.

 

That night he had come back to the cottage to change out of the tailored Navy pin stripe Armani suit for dinner. Dean was waiting in the arm chair reading when he came in and whistled. “I didn’t see you go out this morning.”

 

“You were already gone.” Sam shrugged, not noticing the growing arousal in his partner’s jeans as he tugged at the knot on his tie.

 

“No.” Dean snapped; Sam turned to him, alarmed. “No.” Dean said gentler. “Let me.”

 

Sam smiled gently. “We’re expected for dinner in forty five.”

 

Dean started to pull the knot apart, carefully making sure that his fingers grazed Sam’s skin any time he could. “Then I have thirty to make you want to eat in ten.” He left the stretch of deep indigo tie hanging around Sam’s neck as he started on the buttons of the crisp white linen shirt. “You’re not getting rid of these are you?”

 

Sam could hardly speak as Dean started tracing kisses down his chest, swirling his tongue around Sam’s nipples that jumped out for sweet attention. “Not now.” He finally replied.

 

Dean tugged the shirt out of the waistband of Sam’s pants and then took a half step back to look at him. He looked like a skin mag centerfold tease with his unruly, 'unbusiness' hair curling and flipping around the collars of his open jacket and shirt. He had amazing taste in clothes and colors as the tie brought out all the right things in his heavy, lust blown eyes. Dean couldn’t resist reaching out to caress the slim hips as his fingers dropped into the waistband tracing their way around front to the belt buckle. He drew the zipper down practically one tooth at a time making Sam whimper with his need. When Dean reached a hand in to palm Sam’s cock, they both gasped. “Where have you been hiding these?”

 

Sam couldn’t quite form a full sentence. “Only with suits.”

 

Dean dropped to his knees pushing the pants back off his new found treasure. He reached back to cup the round cheeks in his hands and buried his nose in Sam’s silk clad crotch. Silk boxers. Dean kissed and nibbled at Sam through the ultra thin fabric and then drew his tongue down Sam’s length tenting up the front of the loose under shorts. He closed his mouth around the head and couldn’t help but wonder if this felt as awesome for Sam as it did for him. He couldn’t believe how his mouth watered just to feel the ever so soft fabric over the iron hard cock. Dean could feel his own cock weeping and he hadn’t even been touched.

 

Dean opened his mouth as wide as he could and took as much of Sam’s length as he could without pulling the fabric painfully. Then he hollowed out his cheeks and sucked back up to the head. Sam cried out and grabbed onto Dean’s shoulders for balance as he came like he had never felt before.

 

Dean rose to his feet and guided Sam back to the armchair where he had been sitting. “Here baby, I got something for you too.” He undid his own jeans, but Sam reached out for him and gently, but urgently, pulled the straining manhood from plain old cotton briefs. Sam had no problem with Dean’s new found fetish, but he didn’t think he would ever be able to stand to have anything come between his tongue and Dean’s magnificent cock. Dean was so close that Sam barely got a rhythm going before he was rewarded with Dean’s musky, sweet gift in his throat.

 

Sam rose quickly, no time for afterglow. It was one thing to throw out a pair of thirty dollar boxers, but quite another to ruin a thousand dollar suit.


	12. Not All Good News

The Tuesday after Sam had gone back Dean was trying to keep his mind on the feed order in front of him. Much as he had joked that Sam would get all the paperwork back, he knew that as long as he wanted to be foreman, he would have paperwork. And much as he told Sam he would be ‘the girl’ he couldn’t see himself giving up his work to stay at the cottage baking and raising babies. He built himself a mental picture of him with a baby on his hip, a biter at his ankles and wagging a wooden spoon at Sam as he gives him the You-don’t-know-what-I-do-all-day speech and it made him laugh.

 

He was still chuckling when Ol’ Jer came to the door of the office. “Got a minute boss?”

 

“Sure Jer, what can I do for you?”

 

“The joke must have been funny if you want to share.”

 

“Not really, just something somebody said. Have a seat.”

 

Jer took the offered seat. “Was it Sam?”

 

“Sorry?”

 

“The funny thing. Was it something Sam said?”

 

Dean ran his big hand down his face in a nervous gesture to buy himself the time to gauge the room. “Yea, I guess it was.” Dean chewed on the corner of his cheek. “Is that what you came to talk about?”

 

“Yea, but not what you think. I’m good. I just want you to know that.”

 

Dean’s eyebrows went up a bit in surprise. “Really?”

 

“Dean, I’ve been here for a lot of years, and while I never really had any trouble dealing with Sam, I can’t say he was ever a joy to have around either.” Dean’s face remained impassive. “That is until that last week he was here.”

 

“Noticed a difference, did you?”

 

“Come on Dean, maybe I’m not as smart as you guys, but don’t treat me like an idiot. I saw Sam move his stuff into your cottage and the moving truck there last week.”

 

Dean was a bit taken aback by that since the moving truck was delivering a king sized mattress for the loft. They had specifically had the delivery set up for when the hands would be out on the perimeters. “Saw that too, did you?”

 

“Yea, sorry. We got about half way out and someone realized that we were missing the replacement bolts.” Dean waited to see where this was headed. He really didn’t think Jeremiah was the black mail type, but who knew. “Dean, look, I’m the only one who saw the bed, but I’m not the only one who saw Sam packing into your digs. I don’t care, really I don’t. Frankly, I’m glad to see somebody could finally make that kid happy, but not everyone in the bunkhouse feels that way.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean I came here to warn you. I’m sure most of the boys will just be happy that the boss isn’t such a tight ass anymore, not all of them are going to like why.”

 

Dean chuckled. “Surely you’re not talking about violence?”

 

“Probably not, but if the boys go into town to raise some hell, I’d lock your doors before they come home.”

 

“Jesus!” Dean whispered under his breath.

 

“I’m sorry if it sounds like I’m trying to scare you unduly boss, but John Winchester was good to me when no one else was and I like you guys.” He smiled. “I got your back out here, don’t worry.”

 

“You have your own worries. I don’t want you taking any chances for me.”

 

Jer got up from his chair. “Hey, I’m sure we’re just over reacting anyway. Probably never going to be anything to talk about.”

 

* * *

 

“What did you really expect, baby?” Sam’s soothing voice came down the line in the dark. “It’s still Texas.”

 

“I know.” Dean sighed. “I guess I expected more from our own people.”

 

“Well, Lucky is nobody’s people but dad’s.”

 

“You don’t know it’s Lucky.”

 

“Oh, come on Dean. Do you really think it’s not Lucky?”

 

Dean sighed sadly. “No, I guess you’re right.” Sam had suspected that this would happen all along, but he still felt bad for Dean. Dean always wanted to see the best in everyone and it was heartbreaking for Sam to see him come up against this and not be able to be there with him.

 

“So.” Sam smiled, changing the subject. “How’s the new bed?”

 

“Big. Empty.” Dean smiled back. “I wish we’d waited.”

 

“Why?”

 

“It just makes two and a half weeks seem even longer.”

 

Sam smiled again. “It’s the last time you’ll ever be alone again. I promise.”


	13. New Year's Redux

Dean was not a driver. He could stay on a horse for hours at a time and never complain, but even with the window open, he found himself desperate to get out of the truck every three hours or so. He thought about it, but decided against driving through the night and found a motel on the leaving side of Knoxville ready to leave there first thing Thursday.

 

“You must have been seriously horny.”

 

“Hello to you too.” Sam smiled down the line to his exhausted partner. “I guess I’m driving home.”

 

“I don’t know how you did it in one go.”

 

“Well I didn’t initially plan it that way.”

 

“What changed your mind?”

 

“New Years Eve.”

 

* * *

 

Sam shoved his hands in Dean’s back pockets to give him purchase to grind one half hard cock against the other. He buried his face in Dean’s neck immersing himself in the scent of Dean. There was sunshine there, fresh air, the subtle cologne that he only wore on special occasions. His tongue lapped out, almost unbidden, to taste the pulse point, that spot right there and Dean shivered under his touch and tilted his head away opening up for his Sam.

 

Dean had been dreaming of this since he was about sixteen or seventeen. He knew that Sam was too young then, so he did feel a bit weird about that, but that was then. Now they were men. Not even the boys they were in July & August when this started or Thanksgiving when Dean knew it hadn’t been a mistake. No, something had happened this last week that changed everything. Dean didn’t know what, didn’t care. He just knew that now they were men. Men who would make decisions to affect the rest of their lives. Probably not today, probably right now he should stop thinking with his upstairs brain, but maybe that’s what made it real. For Dean at least, sex had always been nothing but release, but with Sam, it was how Sam filled him up too. Then Sam hit that spot on his neck and his upstairs brain did shut off.

 

Dean’s hands ran up Sam’s back, fingers tracing across the lines of his strong shoulders to tangle into the back of his silky curls. He thought about making a girl crack, but then he really didn’t want Sam to do anything about those curls. He wrapped his hand in the back of Sam’s hair and pulled his mouth down for a kiss. He tasted of good brandy, better cigars and chocolate, wherever that had come from, and underneath all of that, very Sam. “Can we please get out of these jeans?” Dean asked.

 

Sam didn’t answer, but did remove his hands from Dean’s pockets and moved around to his belt. Of all the unsolved mysteries of the universe, the one that made Dean most curious was how two guys could remove cowboy boots, jeans and socks and never stop kissing each other.

 

“Hey, hey.” Dean pulled back breathlessly. “Where’s the booze?”

 

“It’s Cristal, Dean.”

 

“Since when are you a brand whore?”

 

“I’m not, I asked you to get beer, but they spend billions to develop a good product and billions more in marketing and endorsements to make you remember not to call it booze.”

 

“Lecture over professor?” Dean asked dryly.

 

Sam nodded. “Booze is by the front door.” Dean shook his head but turned to fetch the bottle and glasses. Sam took the opportunity to admire the view. Since moving to the city, Sam was forced to enroll in a gym to keep fit and while he didn’t mind working out, it made him look more sculpted. Dean was strong and muscled just from his day to day routine. His back and thighs Sam knew were hard, but he still looked warm and soft. Sam didn’t know if it was the horse back riding or what exactly made Dean’s ass so incredibly firm and round and he really didn’t care. He was just glad something did. He was smiling when Dean returned with the bottle opened and two glasses in his hand.

 

“What are you smiling at?”

 

“I’m pretty sure you already know.”

 

“Sit.” Dean gestured to the sheepskins laid out on the floor. “Sit down.” Sam sat and then reclined back against the pillows behind him, one arm bent up under his head the other leg bent foot flat on the floor. There was no guile in him though; it was as if Sam had no idea of the power of his sexuality. Dean handed him the glass. “To you. I wish you everything Sammy, every happiness, every success, you deserve it all.” Glasses tinked, sips sipped and lips met.

 

Sam looked up at Dean still sitting mostly upright. “To us because you are my happiness and discovering you is my success.”

 

Dean was a bit more overcome by that than he had expected and when the glasses tinked this time, he sloshed his Cristal across Sam’s chest. “Sorry.” He grinned sheepishly. “Here, I’ll get it.” With a gentle hand he pushed Sam flat on his back and then his tongue reached out and lapped up the residue of the dry wine. It sparkled across his tongue, its fruity grape flavor mixing with the sweet, musky taste of Sam’s skin.

 

Luckily Sam saw the devilish grin play across Dean’s lips as he tilted his glass. The cool vintage pooled in the hollow of his throat below the Adam’s apple but he didn’t flinch. Dean’s tongue lapped at the little pool before his lips closed over Sam’s throat as he drank the shot. Dean drank half the bottle from the hollows down Sam’s chest and finally from his navel. Sam was squirming by this time, but Dean wasn’t done yet and tried to pour a last navel shot straight from the bottle. There was still quite a bit in the bottle and it sloshed and splashed across Sam’s pubic area. There was no lying still for that and Sam’s hips bucked pushing even more of the liquid through his pubic hair and to the root of his heavy cock. True to the game, he followed the golden liquid, licking and slurping it from the coarse curls before licking up the length of Sam’s shaft. What Sam didn’t see was that Dean still had the glass and poured the cool wine over his balls as Dean engulfed him in the heat of his waiting mouth. The sensations were almost too much and Sam cried out his lover’s name.

 

Dean pulled off and took each of those delicious plums in his mouth one at a time. All fruit and musk now and Dean’s head was spinning. He kissed and nibbled up the length of Sam’s shaft avoiding the head on purpose. Sam was writhing underneath him calling out his name. “Oooooh Dean. Please baby. Now Dean. Need you now!” Dean licked straight up the sensitive underside and latched on to the head, hollowing out his cheeks as he took Sam’s balls in his hand massaging gently. “Dammit Dean.” And with one final squeeze Sam came.

 

Sam’s head was spinning and he had to take a minute to come down. Dean smiled down on him. “Need a drink baby?” He offered the glass. “I don’t have any place flat enough to make those little hollows”

 

“No, you have something better.” Sam growled with a grin. “Roll over.”

 

Dean looked a bit apprehensive but complied. Lying on his front there was practically a bowl at the base of Dean’s spine just above that lovely ass. Sam took the glass and upended it between Dean’s shoulder blades where it followed his spine to collect in the basin. Dean squirmed when Sam slurped loudly from the puddle before going back to clean down the spine. He splashed it playfully over Dean’s rosy cheeks before licking it off in a cacophony of slurping that had Dean’s hips bouncing just from the sounds. Sam was already half hard again. He hovered above Dean, close enough to feel their heat between them, but only his shaft brushing against Dean’s posterior. “Do you want me Dean?” The raw sex in Sam’s voice made Dean shiver. “Or do you want to fuck me?”

 

Dean rolled his head to look up, green eyes all smoky with lust. “I want to be in you so bad Sammy.”

 

“Then it’s your lucky day.”


	14. Cambridge

Dean wasn’t exactly sure what he expected from Cambridge, but it wasn’t quite the concrete jungle that Sam had him visualizing. It was urban, sure, but low, old and quaint. He started to actually pay attention to the GPS which provided the intricate directions through the neighborhoods of old oak trees and narrow streets until he pulled up in front of the brownstone. While he hated driving, it didn’t mean he wasn’t good at it and he expertly backed the big truck into the drive way. The truck hadn’t even come to a full stop when Sam was at the window grinning like a kid. Dean couldn’t help but smile back; happy Sammy was infectious.

 

“I didn’t think you’d ever get here.” Sam took Dean’s face in his hands and kissed him deeply.

 

Dean looked at his watch. “Why, I’m on time.”

 

“I know, but after your phone call last night, all I can think about is New Years.”

 

Dean smiled a tired, naughty grin. “Sorry about that.” Sam reached around and put his hands in Dean’s back pockets. “Hey, we’re on the street here.”

 

“Dean this isn’t Texas.” Sam assaulted him with another big wet kiss. “I don’t have to hide you here.” He squeezed him tighter and swiveled his hips. “I don’t want to hide you.”

 

“I get that Baby, but” Dean smiled. “I just drove, like fifteen hours and I don’t really feel like a dry hump in the drive way.”

 

Sam was still reluctant to let go, his cheeks flushed, lips still shining in the moon light. “Yea, I guess I get that.” But he still didn’t move.

 

“Sam,” Dean caressed from Sam’s hips up across his belly and chest to frame the younger face in his big hands and meet his eyes. “I really want out of these jeans.”

 

Sam seemed to come out of it then. “Oh. Well then come on in.”

 

* * *

 

The inside of the brownstone was just what Dean would have expected from the old, cold Sam, all straight lines and symmetry. Dean wanted so badly to just go around the house and ruffle stuff up just so it didn’t feel like a collection of IKEA showrooms. “Wow. This is cozy.”

 

Sam didn't miss the sarcasm. “Not really, no, but I’m not going to re-do it now, am I?”

 

“No.” Dean took the offending boots and jeans off and sat in his boxers at one of the bar stools at the kitchen island where Sam was grilling his steak.

 

“It’ll sell better this way anyway.”

 

“You’re selling it?” Dean frowned.

 

“Dad doesn’t want to be a landlord, so then we keep it or sell it and there’s no point in keeping it.”

 

“It could be our week-end getaway.” Dean bounced his eyebrows.

 

Sam barked a harsh laugh. “Believe me, I can think of much better week-end getaways than Cambridge.” He spooned Dean’s dinner on to the plate and placed it in front of him. “In my years here Dean, I have learned a great many things about myself, not the least of which is, I am a country boy. Even if I didn’t figure out I was in love with the worlds sexiest cowboy, I did figure out I have to live on my ranch.” He grabbed a beer from the fridge.

 

Dean’s home fries were crispy just like he liked and his T-Bone was medium just like . . . what did he say? Did Sam just say out loud that he was in love with Dean? That is if he could assume that he was the ‘world’s sexiest cowboy’. Dean smiled.

 

“What?” Sam frowned a little, not realizing what he had said.

 

“Nothing.” He started cutting his beef and turned his smile in to himself. His life was good.

 

* * *

 

Dean lay with his head on Sam’s chest listening to his heart beat. His fingers tickled and tugged through the wisps of baby fine hair that crossed his chest and made the briefest suggestion of treasure to the south. Dean was too exhausted for acrobatics so they had kissed, caressed and stroked each other to a quiet but satisfying climax. No matter that it should have lulled Dean to fantasies of further athleticism for tomorrow, he still couldn’t sleep. Even Sam rubbing his back couldn’t shut his mind down.

 

“Can’t you sleep Baby?” Sam asked planting a kiss in his lover’s hair.

 

“Sorry, no. Is this okay?”

 

“For the rest of my life, Dean, whatever you want is okay.”

 

There was a long pause, just breathing and feeling and ‘being’. “Sam?”

 

“Mmmmm.”

 

“What changed for you?”

 

“Uh . . . maybe you’ve noticed, but a lot of things have changed for me.”

 

“That’s what I mean. Do you know when . . . why?”

 

Sam chuckled. “Well if you want a long boring story to put you to sleep, you’ve asked the right question.”

 

Dean didn’t laugh. “Please Sammy.”

 

Sam took a deep breath. “I know Dad never meant to hurt me, but you know when I was a kid I never felt like he really loved me. The only thing I could think of to do was be the man that he was and put it all away. But we both know I’m not Dad. He could always be personable with people but I couldn’t be those two people.” Sam paused frequently, perhaps putting thoughts together, perhaps choosing whether or not to go on. “When people like Carol tried to be nice to me I couldn’t process that. Didn’t believe they actually meant to be nice to me. I mostly knew I was being rotten to people, but I couldn’t seem to change it. I think I was partly punishing myself for killing my mom.” Dean gasped sharply. He had never really thought Sam believed that. “I know now how irrational that is, but we’re talking about that kid.”

 

“I didn’t really have friends in school because I didn’t really try. I didn’t really care. I came home and I had you. You always accepted me, rotten and quiet as I was, you never tried to change that, never tried to make me better.”

 

“When I got accepted at Harvard, leaving was the easiest and the hardest thing I ever did. I thought, ‘this is my chance to find out who I am’ but I had to leave you, leave my security.” Sam squeezed harder as the telling got more difficult and Dean started leaving supportive kisses down his chest. “First year I tried the party road. That was easy, I had money, no shortage of college students want to party with the rich kid. I knew they didn’t care about me, but I found out pretty fast that clubbing wasn’t the life for me.” He could feel Dean smile against his skin as he tried to picture that. “Second year, I tried to find a wife.” Dean felt himself freeze as if his blood went cold. He knew that Sam had girlfriends; he just hadn’t thought they would ever discuss it. He had asked the questions though, hadn’t he?

 

“I seriously thought that I was looking for a wife and they were beautiful girls.” Dean suspected that Sam was teasing him and refused to answer the bait. “But every time they tried to get me to open up it was the end. I shut down and stopped calling. Eventually word got around and girls stopped going out with that Winchester jerk.”

 

Sam heaved a heavy sigh. “Third year, I tried boys.”

 

This time Dean couldn’t deal. “Okay skip third year then.”

 

Sam rubbed Dean’s back gently. “It’s not like that. I started going to gay bars, the neighborhood in Boston and . . . nothing. It's how I know I'm not gay in the strictest sense. Occasionally I would see the back of a six foot blond man with cowboy boots on and get hard, but when he turned and it wasn’t you . . . that’s how I knew.”

 

Dean suddenly felt warm in all the right places. “That’s why you came home last summer?”

 

“Yea, that's when I had to try you.” Their eyes met and Sam smiled. Sam had always showed that smile to Dean, but now he finally knew it was because of Dean. “This has been the hardest six months of my life. It was all I could do to stay here and finish it. I wanted so much to get back to you.” Sam kissed him then, no hunger just a sweet lingering kiss that promised so much more to come. “So the answer to ‘what changed for me?’ I guess is me. I took a bunch of different roads but they all brought me back to you.”


	15. Brady

Sam woke to the smell of frying onions and bacon. It was only just past seven, but that was sleeping in on a Friday morning for Dean. Sam rose and pulled on a pair of sleep pants and nothing else as he headed for the kitchen. “Please tell me you’re making your famous Huevos Rancheros.” Sam rounded the island to give Dean a good morning kiss.

 

Dean presented his cheek for it as he answered. “I would have, but you’re out of Huevos.”

 

Sam nodded his head. “It didn’t seem prudent to buy a bunch of groceries just to pack them home.”

 

Dean continued to stir the onions around the skillet as he spoke. “So what’s on the agenda for today?”

 

“I have meetings with my profs this morning, that’s all.”

 

Dean bobbed his eyes suggestively. “Do you get dressed up for these meetings?”

 

Sam smiled with a shake of his head. “I can’t believe you’ve built a fetish over a business suit.”

 

“Oh, man, you can’t see your ass in those suit pants.”

 

“No, but I’ve made an appointment to see yours.”

 

* * *

 

Dean was looking around during the short drive into Boston. “So why do you think I need a suit?”

 

“I might want to take you someplace nice.”

 

“What makes you think I want to go anywhere that nice?”

 

Sam didn’t answer, but his eyes let Dean know that no matter what the event or the dress code, Sam would make it worth his while. “All right. Suit it is.”

 

They chose a dark grey suit in wool so fine that Dean couldn’t feel the weight of the clothes at all. Sam didn’t even bother watching them tailor the jacket, just flipped through a magazine. But then the young man put Dean up on a pedestal to do the pants. He was on a rolling chair and while Dean stood still, the tailor spun around his feet marking the hem. Something about the sight of Dean standing up there on the pedestal with this person circling him like a planet around the sun did things to Sam that he hadn’t expected. He caught Dean’s eye who gave him a curious look before realization dawned. Dean shook his head warningly, but Sam ignored this as he licked his lips. Dean could virtually feel Sam undressing him with his eyes and could literally feel the heat rising in his cheeks. Sam sat back in his chair, letting his head fall back and his eyes close for a moment, looking for all the world like Dean had just sucked him off for an hour or so. Dean tried, oh how he tried, to think of anything else that might make the feelings go away, but nothing was working. He tried closing his eyes, but that was even worse because when he did that, Sammy was naked. He took a final look at Sam to somehow make him stop but Sam just lowered his smoky eyes and he palmed his growing bulge through his jeans. Dean thought he might just die and looked down into the eyes of the disgusted tailor who, try as he might was not going to get an inseam measurement past Dean’s throbbing hard on.

 

Sam bought two suits.

 

* * *

 

“So your little game was worth two grand was it?” Dean tried to be stern, but he grinned despite himself.

 

Sam smiled. “Pretty much, yea.” The waiter brought their drinks back to the table. “Dean, I’m very tempted to drop under this table and get you off right now.”

 

Dean was surprised at both the suggestion and at how much his dick apparently liked that suggestion too. “What’s with the exhibitionist side Sammy?”

 

Sam shrugged. “We basically have a couple days of days of anonymity to play before we go back to where we have to behave.” Sam smiled as his long fingers kneaded their way up Dean’s thigh.

 

Dean took exception and removed the hand from his leg. “What do you mean Sam? Planning on moving into the closet?”

 

“No.” Sam said first absently but then he noticed the doubt in Dean’s eyes and said more firmly. “No. Dean, I’m with you and I don’t care who knows it, as a matter of fact I want everyone to know it, but I don’t see too much public affection in our future.”

 

Dean smiled. “Is that your kink Sammy?”

 

“Not really, no, but it is kind of fun.”

 

Of course Dean had to know the answer. “What is your, you know, thing?”

 

Was there actually a flush on Sam’s cheeks. “I kind of have a thing for the stable boy.”

 

* * *

 

They spent the rest of the afternoon shopping, Sam making a great fuss over replacing a pair of silk boxers, making Dean laugh and salesclerks shake their heads. They went to a good but quick Italian dinner and then Sam had gotten them tickets to the Celtics game. Dean wasn’t particularly big on basketball, but they were in Boston and he really didn’t like hockey.

 

Saturday they spent the morning in bed and then packing up Sam’s meager last few belongings. Dean’s suits arrived along with the collection of shirts and ties that Sam had picked. Saturday evening, Sam took Dean to an early performance by the Boston Pops. Sam was neither surprised, nor disappointed when they chose to leave at intermission but it did leave them too early for their dinner reservations. They took a walk instead, taking in some sights for Dean, saying good bye for Sam. They talked and talked and talked some more and Sam wondered if they would ever run out of things to talk about. They knew pretty much everything about each other and were together most of the time, but they always seemed to be able to come up with something new.

 

Over a very nice surf and turf dinner they talked some more about the future, their future. After brandy and cigars in the bar, Dean turned dreamy eyes to Sam. “Are you going to take me home and ravage me now?”

 

“Not quite.”

 

“What’s left Sam?”

 

“I’m taking you dancing.”

 

* * *

 

After the expected amount of protest, Dean agreed to go for about an hour. When they arrived, Dean couldn’t believe that Sam had purchased a membership in a private gay club. “I told you.” Sam stated. “Did you really think that I only trolled the meat markets?”

 

Dean shrugged. “I guess I never thought there were places like this.” Again, there was a cigar bar and the non smoking bar, but the restaurant was serviceable mostly just for steak and sandwiches. The club’s greatest asset, at least for Sam, was the spacious dance floor and the DJ had the greatest collection known to man. Whatever your taste, he had it so that Sam could have a few of those poppy dance things he liked and still deliver Dean’s cowboy classics if necessary.

 

Their taste in music was where they differed most, Dean favoring classic rock and country while Sam liked more alternative rock. In truth, Dean was pretty sure he would listen to Gregorian chants if they made Sam’s hips swing like that. They chose to sit at the bar just above the dance floor taking their jackets off, leaving them over the back of the stools. Dean perched himself up on the stool while Sam stood beside him, too full of nervous energy to sit. He swayed with the music that played and Dean had no idea if he even knew the songs or just liked the beats. Dean couldn’t help the smile that played across his lips as he watched his Sammy so happy in his own skin now. Sam turned to him just then and returned the smile curiously. “What?”

 

“You just look so happy.”

 

Sam smiled back just as some ballad came on and he reached for Dean’s hand. “Dance with me.” Sam led their way to the dance floor and then slipped his arm around Dean’s waist to pull him close. Dean was pretty sure Sam chose the song for the tempo and the excuse to press them together rather than for the actual song as the lyric seemed pretty sad but Sam was still smiling. The waiter brought their beers out to them so they stayed on the dance floor for about half an hour as the tunes sped up and slowed back down. Dean finally begged off for a few minutes when Sam ran into some people that he knew and started to explain that he would be leaving Cambridge. Sam introduced him as his boyfriend and a shiver went right through Dean. He pulled himself back onto his bar stool and ordered another round. He thanked the bartender and took a pull off his beer just as someone took the empty bar stool to his right.

 

“I haven’t seen you here before.”

 

“No, this is my first time.” Dean turned to his companion. He was fair, his hair a bit lighter than Dean’s own and he was luckily free of the freckles that plagued Dean’s sun kissed cheeks. He was blue eyed and had a neat cleft in his not too pointy chin. He was pleasant enough to look at Dean assessed, but there was something about the way the lips were set together too tight that put Dean off, like he was just too . . . something.

 

“Can I buy you a drink?”

 

“Uh, thanks, but I just got this one and I’m here with someone.”

 

“Mmm.” Came the curious answer.

 

Sam came back at that moment from behind the stranger to lay a hand on Dean’s shoulder and a kiss on his neck. “Well this explains so very many things.” The stranger spoke in an oily voice that left Dean cold but not as cold as the look of sheer . . . dread on Sam’s face.

 

Sam’s blood ran cold as he heard the voice behind him. Not here, not now, not tonight. “Brady.”


	16. Sam's Messy Past

*Eighteen Months Earlier*

 

So much for that. Her words still stung, but it was done.

 

“Do you even want to be with anyone Sam?” Jessica asked, her voice calm even with the tears sliding down her cheek.

 

Sam’s chin came up, he knew better than to speak, but needed to acknowledge her question anyway.

 

“You know I talked to Maddison and Cara and Sarah, don’t you?”

 

He nodded his head and spoke quietly. “I heard.”

 

“So then you must know what I found out?”

 

“I can guess.” He didn’t understand her purpose here. “What I don’t understand is why it matters.”

 

Not the right thing to say for sure. “Why it matters?” Her voice rose, anger taking over any sadness or disappointment that had been there before. “It matters because we all wasted our time on you. It matters because we all cared about you, maybe still do. But most of all, it matters because there’s a lot wrong with you Sam, but you’re never going to be happy until you figure out what matters to you.”

 

What she had found out was that the last time he had seen any of those girls had been the day they had told him they loved him. Three little words that every human being wants to hear; needs to hear were Sam Winchester’s signal to move on. He thought about phoning home. Thought about finding out what Dean thought, but that might open up a whole other can of I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it. No, Sam thought; time to think things through again, try a different tack.

 

* * *

 

It was about a month later that Sam found himself in another bar, loud enough, but not as bad as the crazy party places he found himself in first year. Here, the music didn’t serve to entertain so much as direct the hips to suggest other activities. Sam had no real love for dance beats but he liked to dance; liked the way it made him feel; liked that people watched him. For a guy who never seemed to care or really even notice what other people thought about him, even he could see the irony in enjoying their eyes on him.

 

He wore his jeans low on his hips, not too tight, but they did produce a nice curve in the rear. This night he had chosen a form fitting t-shirt that only just met the waistband of the pants so that just about any way he stood showed just a hint of his flat belly or his tailbone. Since moving to the city he had joined a gym and while he hated to admit (and might not to his dad), that he preferred to keep in shape with hard work, the crowd here seemed particular to the sculpting that the machines at the gym produced. He could feel eyes on him and he smiled. He looked off to his right where a group of men, a few years older than him were deep in conversation watching him.

 

“They’re all too intimidated to come over and talk to you?” Came the voice over his left shoulder.

 

“Really? Why’s that?”

 

“Because you’re beautiful.”

 

A chuckle escaped Sam. “Thanks.” He turned to the stranger. Blonde, six foot, blue eyes, good features, intelligent, Boston U t-shirt. Worth the evening he supposed.

 

“No blushing denial?”

 

“Should I?”

 

“A lot of guys who come here looking like you pretend they don’t look like you.”

 

“I don’t suffer from any body image issues so I don’t feel the need to play games to get you to try and convince me of the compliment you’ve already given me.”

 

“Psych major?”

 

“Business.”

 

“Really? So am I. Third year?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“How have we not met? Brady.” He offered his hand.

 

“Sam. Actually, I go to Harvard.” The handshake was firm but somehow cold, though the temperature was fine.

 

“Oh, slumming in Boston for the night?”

 

“I wouldn’t call it that.”

 

“What would you call it?” Brady asked with the hint of suggestion.

 

Sam considered Brady. If he was going to follow this path to see where it led, this wouldn’t be the worst way. They already had school in common as a place to start for conversation and he was nice looking and he smelled good. Sam smiled. “I’d call it the best decision I made all day.”

 

 

It felt like they danced forever, if you could really call it dancing. Brady clearly thought he was going to bed Sam on the first night but Sam had been working on how to let that down easily. He still wasn’t sure he wanted to go this way let alone all the way this way and especially not his first night.

 

They were outside the club waiting for a cab for Sam to get back across the river. “You need to come back to my place baby.” Brady ran his hand up San’s sweat slick back. Sam’s eyes closed and he couldn’t quite help leaning into it as Brady laid a soft kiss up his neck but he held firm.

 

“Not tonight Brady.” He sighed, but kissed him back with a little grin. “I told you, I’m not that kind of boy.”

 

A cab finally arrived and Sam got in. Brady closed the door with his hands on the open window frame and leaned in placing another kiss on Sam’s lips. “You’d better be worth the wait.”

 

 

Sam lay in bed, ears still ringing from the music, skin still humming from the kisses. The curious thing about that is when Sam closed his eyes it wasn’t Brady’s lips on his neck. He dreamed of other lips kissing him, other hands stroking up his back. He could almost feel the rough of the calloused hands if he tried hard enough. Imagined he could feel those rough hands when his own hand grazed the head of his suddenly hard cock. He breathed deep and imagined that he could smell the sweet sunshine and warm breezes on gently freckled skin as he took hold of his shaft and began his own steady rhythm.

 

As intelligent as he was it would still be a bit of a mystery to him as to why he couldn’t see what was before him as he stroked himself furiously to satisfaction with only one picture in his mind and one name on his lips. Dean.

 

* * *

 

After three months, Brady had had it. They hung out off and on and played around a bit, but Sam couldn’t make himself feel it. He could do the acts, but mostly only in the dark or when he could close his eyes. He rationally knew what was happening, but tried his best to deny and find another way. It was finally Brady who made the decision.

 

Sam sat in sleep pants, back to the headboard with Brady’s naked back to him. Sam’s big hand pulling Brady through to, what Sam felt, must be a satisfactory conclusion. Clearly Brady had other ideas.

 

“Do you know who he is Sam, or is he just not me?”

 

Sam sighed. “What are you talking about?”

 

“Don’t you think I see it? We’ve never made love Sam. You get off, I get off, have we ever even been naked at the same time. Even when I’m kissing you, face to face, you have your eyes closed. You’re with someone else in your mind, that’s for sure.”

 

“Brady, don’t be like this. Of course I’m with you.”

 

“I found the girls Sam.”

 

The stiffness in Sam now was not what Brady might have wanted. He bolted out of the bed shoving Brady away roughly. “You had no right.” He shouted uncharacteristically.

 

“I had every right.” Brady shouted right back. “I have every right to find out what kind of games you’re playing with me. I’m no fucking prince Sam, but I don’t deserve to be your fucking blow up doll.” His words were full of venom and spite, but layered underneath there was a note of hurt and disappointment. “I don’t know what you're looking for Sam, but I’m finished trying to help you find it.”

 

* * *

“Dad?”

 

Did John Winchester hear a hitch of tears in the voice? “Sam?”

 

“I’m coming home for the summer.”

 

“Anything you need son.”


	17. I Love You Dean

“Brady.” Sam said again doing his best to push his fears down.

 

“So this is him.” There was no question in Brady’s tone, just the statement of the fact, the confirmation of what Brady had long suspected.

 

“Dean,” Sam gestured between the men. “This is Brady, Brady, Dean.”

 

“Nice to meet you.” Dean tried neutrally.

 

“Oh, it’s nice to finally meet you since I have long known of your existence.”

 

Sam couldn’t believe how bitter Brady sounded. Surely he had no issues filling his bed after Sam. He was snapped up by a big pharmaceutical company in middle level management to start so his career was set. Sam couldn’t believe that their association had actually broken his heart since he still wasn’t positive that he had one.

 

“So tell me Dean, do you get to fuck him?”

 

Sam took a half a step but Dean put a hand on his chest. “Look Brady,” Dean started with his calm break-up-the-bar-fight voice. “I understand that you have some history with Sam and I know that Sam had some issues. I’m sorry that he took them out on you, but we’re just trying to have a nice evening before Sam leaves here.”

 

Brady looked straight into Dean’s eyes. “Went back to the farm for you; did he?”

 

Dean looked at the cold steel in those blue eyes and knew that there was not going to be any winning here today. “It’s a ranch, but yea.”

 

“Well I’m sure you boys will live up to the cowboy stereotypes.” Brady turned his eyes to Sam. “We could have made a great team.” He balled his hand into a fist. “We could have had power.”

 

Sam looked at him sadly. Sam had realized that one of the reasons he had never been truly intimate with Brady was that he didn’t believe that Brady could be truly intimate. Even on a weekend with nothing else to do but each other, Brady had always been about the most efficient use of time and energy and getting things done. Brady would never spend a whole night outdoors, skin to skin, trying to count the stars with kisses. At the memory, Sam smiled. His ear caught the lyric on the dance floor. “I’m sorry Brady, but I requested this. We’re going to dance.”

 

He took Dean by the hand and led him out.

 

* * *

 

They reached the floor just as Tim McGraw finished the first verse of ‘I Need You’.

 

…Like a lighthouse on a coast

Like the father and the son need the Holy Ghost

I need you...

 

Sam snaked his arm around Dean’s waist and pulled him close burying his face in Dean’s neck by his ear to sing along with the Faith Hill lines:

 

I wanna get lost in some corner booth, Cantina Mexico

I wanna dance to the static of an AM radio

I wanna wrap the moon around us, lay beside you skin on skin

Make love til the sun comes up, til the sun goes down again.

Cause I need you...

 

Sam’s right hand let go of Dean’s and caressed a line up his chest the big hand sliding up his neck to cradle his cheek. Dean leaned into the palm as Sam’s thumb traced that beautiful, suckable bottom lip. Sam steered Dean into the kiss and it deepened as their tongues slid against each other in and effort to chase away the earlier incident. With his hand still cradling his beloved’s face, Sam broke the kiss to look into Dean’s eyes. He could feel Dean’s heartbeat under his fingertips, it quickened just from their eye contact, just as Sam’s quickened in anticipation. Dean looked up at him, his eyes questioning, Sam smiled down, his eyes at peace and then Dean smiled even as his eyes filled.

 

“I love you.” He chuckled around the lump in his throat. “I always have. I don’t know why I fought so hard to avoid this when deep down I always knew it was where I wanted to be.” Sam kissed away the big fat tear rolling down Dean’s cheek.

 

“Oh, Sammy,” Dean choked on his emotion. “I’ve waited so long. . .”

 

“Let’s go home baby.” Sam kissed him deep and long again. “Let’s go home.”

 

* * *

 

Pretty much as soon as the cab had the address they were in each other’s arms, kissing and laughing and a lot of hands.

The cabbie, while he knew who he was picking up and where, clearly didn’t appreciate the public display. “Hey guys . . . I uh . . . really?” Sam dropped two hundred dollar bills on the front seat. “Everybody loves a lover.” Then he drove a little bit faster.

 

* * *

 

Sam struggled with the key in the lock; he was so distracted by Dean’s rock hard cock nestling up against the cheeks of his ass. They practically fell through the door when he finally got it, then Sam slammed it shut and turned to lock the deadbolt. As soon as he turned back to Dean he was pressed back against the door and Dean was on him again. Dean loosened Sam’s tie and then started on the buttons just as Sam did the same to him. Dean spared a look to the living room and realized that he sorely missed his fireplace. He wrapped Sam’s tie around his hand a couple times and started backing up towards the stairs, never removing his lips for more than a breath from his lover’s.

 

Once at the top of the stairs Dean did a little side step and was now leading Sam by his tie. “Very funny.” Sam smiled. He really didn’t mind being led because Dean put himself in that super sexy begging position and then Sam wondered if Dean hadn’t done it on purpose. Sam pulled Dean’s back to him and finished undoing the shirt and tie. He had both hands running all over every inch of Dean’s chest and his face buried in Dean’s neck but Dean had lost the ability to touch him. Sam reached up with his right hand again and pulled Dean’s lips to him for a kiss. “I love you.” Just hearing the words made Dean want to melt into a puddle after all this time. He figured after Thanksgiving that Sam pretty much felt that way, but it took so much for Sam to say the words; took so much for him to open up that side; it just meant so much to him. “What do you want baby?”

 

“I just wanna make love to you.” Dean sighed. “I want to be inside you.”

 

Sam reached his right hand down to Dean’s belt and deftly opened the pants without letting go of his chest. With Dean’s pants at his ankles Sam’s hand took hold of Dean’s shaft, loose from its cloth prison fully hard now. Sam gave him a few slow strokes rubbing his thumb across the weeping head. “You sure baby?” Sam smiled against his ear. “You sure you don’t want me to take care of this for you?”

 

Dean stepped away from the attention to his prick and faced Sam, eyes dark with lust. “I need to be inside you.” He busied himself removing the rest of Sam’s clothes and gave him a playful shove down onto the bed. Sam scooted up to prop himself up against the pillows at the headboard and gave Dean the come hither eyes, with the crooked finger and everything.

 

Dean laughed and crawled up the bed as Sam gave himself a couple strokes. Dean slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch. That’s mine too.” Dean bent Sam’s left leg up so his foot was flat on the bed and with a gentle massage laid the other against the bed. He took Sam’s length in his left hand and gave him a few lazy strokes but soon returned to massaging the leg. “You want to tease me Sammy?” Dean smiled as he rubbed his right hand up and down that thigh. “After the night we’ve had?” Dean slid his finger gently but quickly home rubbing gently but insistently at the ring of resistance. “You finally tell me you love me . . . after all this time.” He added the second digit and Sam’s eyes rolled back in his head. “Damn, Sammy. Don’t you think I wanted you right there on the dance floor?” He took the lube from the crook of his knee, where he’d been warming it up and added it along with the third finger to eliminate all resistance.

 

“Dean.” It was a plea, a prayer. “Now.”

 

Dean was on his knees, sitting on his feet and scooted Sam’s butt into his lap. He took that oh-so-long left leg and draped it over his shoulder as he brought his iron hard, aching cock to Sam’s waiting center. Dean rocked up on his knees pushing in slow and steady. Sam was so ready in all ways that his body didn’t even give any natural resistance. Dean could tell when he hit the spot because Sam’s irises would disappear into the back of his head. All Dean could feel was the rapturous tight heat of his lover, his only love. His legs acted as a natural springboard and he just started rocking, his cock never leaving Sam but far enough to hit home every time. He reached his right hand up and spread it out lovingly across Sam’s chest, a second center of connection.

 

Sam was quite easily in a state of euphoria. He could feel no part of him that wasn’t humming with sensation. Tingles radiated out from that beautiful bundle of nerves every time Dean rocked up and his cock hit bottom. Dean stroked his cock in the same rhythm that he was fucking him so that at the same time he hit the bundle, his thumb circled over the head. “Dean, I can’t hold on.”

 

“Just a bit longer Sammy.” Dean purred as he stopped stroking all the way to the top and quickened his rocking a bit. “Okay baby, come with me.” Dean rocked them one, two, three more times and Sam screamed Dean’s name as he braced himself against Sam’s leg. Sam blew ropes of thick sticky cum all over Dean’s hand and his own belly even as Dean pumped deep inside.

 

They stayed that way for a moment and then Sam looked up at Dean’s uncomfortable position against his bent leg. “Ow.”

 

“Sorry Sammy.” Dean untwisted them and from behind his back produced a towel and proceeded to clean them up. “This time, your cowboy came prepared.”

 

Sam laughed his little laugh. He felt absolutely undone in so many ways. “I love you.”

 

Dean didn’t even smile. “I know you do.”


	18. Domesticity

Domesticity fell around them like a warm blanket and it seemed to surprise them the most how easily they fell into roles and routines. Dean was always up earliest and always before the alarm. Many times he spent the first five or ten minutes of the day just watching Sam sleep. After all the years of watching from afar, Dean couldn’t help but just stare at his beautiful boy.

 

The funny thing was Sam almost always let Dean fall asleep first to do the exact same thing.

 

Week days they went up to the ranch house for breakfast as always but on weekends, Dean cooked for Sam since Carol was now moved into the ranch and doing the cooking for John. “Let the village talk.” She laughed. “We’re too old to care now.”

 

Sam set up his office temporarily in the main house but he was planning to renovate the housekeeper’s cottage into offices for all of the operations that they had and he was planning. His father smiled every time he came up with a new idea. Sam had spent four years learning from the best business minds in the country how to make billions for Microsoft and Pfizer and he brought their big ideas home to their ranch. While these changes didn’t make John Winchester billions, not one of them had lost him money and the satisfaction that showed in Sam was all the return a father could hope for.

 

So Sam spent most mornings at research and planning. He hoped to do all the renovating he wanted done himself, somehow desperate to do things himself these days. He was ‘nesting’ a bit at the cottage too, painting a few of the rooms and generally sprucing things up.

 

Afternoons he usually spent out doors or at the barns. He really didn’t expect he was going to take over too much of those operations unless Dean wanted him to, but he felt he needed to be more in touch with the day to day. He was very aware that the hands still looked at him with, at best, indifference, but mostly real dread. While the rumors of Sam’s transformation were rampant around the ranch no one seemed to want to test them by actually speaking to him. He would give them a bit more time before coming up with an alternative.

 

While they were always welcome at the main house and went there frequently, Sam had become the cook and he was a good one. There was something about cooking dinner for them in their own home that really appealed to Sam and from the beaming smiles when Dean came home, clearly there was some in it for him too.

 

* * *

 

Dean made the fewest changes to his everyday routine. From six am to about five pm, his day didn’t change. He walked up to the main house with Sam for breakfast and then kissed his boy good bye for the day before he went on about ranch business.

 

The ranch ran about six herds of 2500 through about in eight different pastures in a roughly circular pattern. The herd closest to the barns on the way out held the mamas and the youngest calves and was closest to keep the mamas on some corn and feed. They moved on through the pattern until they reached the closest pasture on the way in which led to the sales. As foreman, Dean stayed mostly close to home scheduling the hands to do the circuits out to monitor all the farthest herds. They liked to have at least a hundred going off to the barns every month; it kept prices and demand average. At least once a week Dean went out through those last two pastures looking for the animals to send off to the sales at the end of the month but that was a day job at best.

 

He also had to keep track of his girls and which ones would be bred this cycle, next cycle. Sam would always shake his head at what Dean could keep in his. He kept few records on paper, but Dean knew most of his mamas by sight and personality. He could tell you if a particular girl had trouble last time and should wait another month. Sam liked to joke about getting him a computer; though he knew he never would.

 

Dean couldn’t quite believe how much he really just enjoyed having Sam there to come home to. For years he had known that he wanted Sam to be his partner in every way, but it still surprised him how that actually felt. How he walked through the door at the end of the day and Sam turned that thousand watt smile to him and it made his chest feel like it would bust.

 

He had always thought he was happy, but now he truly knew what happiness was.


	19. Meet The Team

Chicken on a cattle ranch was usually a bit of a joke, but Sam did something with chicken breast, first asparagus and Swiss cheese that had Dean’s knees weak. “You’re getting it good tonight for this.” Dean moaned around his mouth full.

 

“If I’d known dinner was going to be foreplay, I might have lit some candles.” Sam smiled.

 

Dean reached out and took Sam’s hand. “Seriously, you’re really good at this stuff, you know.”

 

Sam’s eyebrows went up. “Baking chicken?”

 

Dean shrugged. “You know what I mean. If you left me in charge of the kitchen we’d have the same thing every night.”

 

“Carol’s cooking?” Sam smiled.

 

Dean laughed at that one. “Yea, but you know you really should be leaving me some chores to do.” Referring, Sam guessed, to the fact that he had cut the wood and brought it in.

 

“Why?” Sam frowned. “You don’t have enough back breaking work to do everyday?”

 

“Sam, I just don’t want you to wake up someday resenting me because I make you do everything.”

 

“But you don’t make me do anything.” Sam grinned. “As long as you never tell me to clean up after you and you don’t walk in the door screaming for your supper, I’m happy doing this.” He reached out a hand and stroked Dean’s cheek as he leaned in for a kiss. “I’ll do anything, for my everything.” They kissed there for a few moments and then Dean got up to put the dishes in the dishwasher. “So,” Sam started as Dean handed him a cup of coffee from the fresh pot. “Do you still play ball?”

 

“Pitcher or catcher, Sammy, you know I’m game for either.” Dean bobbed his eyebrows at his lover.

 

“Maybe later, big boy.” Sam laughed. “I was thinking if I really want to be finally accepted into the community, that we could join one of the ball teams.”

 

Dean nodded his head absently, considering. “Yea, Sam, that’s a good idea.” Sam started to smile as he could virtually see the sex dripping into Dean’s eyes. “I can just imagine your ass in a baseball uniform.”

 

* * *

 

While Sam had never had a lot of friends, he had never made a lot of enemies either; had never taken enough time or effort to do either. They had been spending quite a bit of time with Jeremiah, his wife Belle and baby Jer so it was an easy decision to join Jeremiah’s team. After Jeremiah’s conversation with Dean at the barn, he had been the first to warm up to Sam inviting the new couple dinner almost as soon as they were officially back.

 

Sam instantly fell in love with Belle. She was from North Carolina, Northeast enough to be accepting, but just old South enough to not quite get it. She was a doll and Sam was pretty sure that he was a pet project of some kind now. She wasn’t very big, just at or over five foot and a little plump, mostly from baby Sam suspected because she worked like a horse. She was hugely affectionate and often threw hugs at Sam like a tiny linebacker. Baby Jer was a big deal for both Sam and Dean though and the tiny man started getting very spoiled almost immediately.

 

Once they joined Jer’s team there was Sheriff Steve Randall, who had been in school with Dean, and his new bride Diana who was a nurse at the hospital. Then there was Sheriff’s Deputy Dave Clark, who had been in Sam’s year and was dating Mandy Allen who was the dispatcher at the sheriff’s station and Belle’s best friend.

 

The eight of them became a fairly solid bunch, usually hanging out, if not with their own partners, obviously with another. Sam and Belle most notably the closest as they were together at the ranch so much.

 

“I think she’s sweet on you.” Dean smiled after ball one night. Sam had slid into third and leaned across the bathroom vanity while Dean was cleaning up a nastyish patch of road rash on his side. Belle had insisted that she should come and take care of it for him, not trusting that he and Dean could get it clean or covered or something.

 

Sam smiled even as the sting of peroxide made him wince. “She’s just mothering Dean.”

 

“I like her though.” Dean smiled.

 

“Are you . . . jealous?” Sam grinned.

 

“No.” Dean snapped, a bit of protest-too-much Sam suspected.

 

“Dean, she’s our friend.” Sam took Dean’s face in his hands and kissed him lightly up the line of his jaw. “If you’re thinking she fills some kind of gap, she can’t because you don’t leave any.”

 

“I love you.” Dean sighed as Sam kissed his lips one at a time. “I’m getting a shower.”

 

“Mmmm, company?” Sam’s eyes slid shut.

 

“I was hoping you’d offer.”

 

Sam bent into the shower to turn the water on and Dean went to the closet to get fresh towels. When Dean returned, Sam was already in the water, washing his hair and Dean watched for a minute. The mechanics of it never changed; wash, rinse, repeat, but there was something about it that did things to him that made Dean wonder. Was it just Sammy who could make washing your hair sexy? The way holding his arms up stretched his chest out, the way his head fell back and exposed his neck, eyes closed, enjoying the warm water.

 

“Dean, quit staring.” He smiled, reaching out a hand for his partner.

 

Dean took the offered hand as the room started to fill with steam. He accepted the warm massage as Sam washed his hair for him and then lathered up a washcloth with some manly suds. Finally all clean, Sam pulled Dean tight to him, his left arm tight across Dean’s broad chest like a seat belt as he traced a line of kisses up Dean’s neck. Dean growled out a low moan as Sam whispered nothings in his ear. “Mmmm, love you . . . so beautiful . . . so strong . . . all mine.” Dean was just starting to enjoy the feeling of Sam’s big prick nestling into position between the cheeks of his ass when he lost his breath as Sam reached around with his right hand to grasp his cock.

 

Sam started to stroke Dean so slowly that Dean didn’t think he was going to be able to go along, but then he started thrusting his hips in time with his hand and the concert of sensation had Dean on the edge sooner than usual. “Sammy I’m . . .”

 

“I know Dean. I’m there too.” Sam’s hips met Dean just a little bit harder and he stroked just a little bit faster and they were soon coming together in that rush of love and communion of truly knowing your lover. Dean’s knees went a little weak. “I got you baby.” Sam cooed in his ear.

 

“You sure make it worth getting dirty.”


	20. Blue Steel

The first week end in May started like any other. The boys had ball practice Saturday morning and the gang went into town in the evening to hear a band. They all laughed and danced and drank a bit too much and talked about what they should do for Memorial Day. Sam went off to play a round of pool with the three guys at one point and the three girls pinned Dean down in the booth.

 

“Have you got it?” Diana asked.

 

“Just yesterday.” Dean replied, clearly nervous.

 

“When are you going to give it to him?” Belle giggled.

 

“Tomorrow.”

 

“How can you wait?” Mandy shook her head.

 

“It’s not like I can just keep it in my pocket for a special moment, I had to make a moment.”

 

Dean and the girls were laughing and edgy all night, but in a good way so that Dean was pretty sure that Sam didn’t notice anything weird.

 

When they got home there was a message on the machine from Carol.

 

“Hello boys, Sunday dinner will be at six pm and you’re expected . . . cleaned up, please.”

 

“Wow.” Dean said. “What do you think that’s all about?”

 

“I don’t know, but if you want much of a day tomorrow then we’re going to have to be up early.”

 

 

Early didn’t even begin to cover what time Dean sneaked out of bed to make his surprise happen. By the time that Sam got up Dean was back in the house with the Nuevos Rancheros on the plate.

 

“Well you sure know the way to a boy’s heart.” Sam smiled.

 

“I thought you might like that.” They discussed their route for the day to maximize the ride and still be back with plenty of time to get cleaned up and ready for dinner. As they walked between the cottage and the barn, Dean took Sam’s left hand in his.

 

“Sammy, we both know that it’s going to be a long time before we’ll be able to publicly put a gold band on this hand.” Dean could feel the tremor that passed through Sam all the way to the end of those long fingers. “I’ve wanted to do something, give you something to symbolize my commitment to you, but we both know that outside that gold band, neither of us are jewelry guys.” Dean smiled as he looked into Sam’s tear filled eyes even as he gave his head a confused shake. “I know it’s not the romantic kind of gift it should be but it is still me, after all, so he should make sense.”

 

“He?” Sam asked as they rounded the lane at the stables and Dean gestured ahead of them.

 

“His papers call him Blue Steel, but you can call him whatever you want.”

 

Sam’s jaw dropped a bit as his eyes lit on the beautiful giant in front of them. Blue steel was a taller than average quarter horse with a coat of charcoal grey dappled here and there with steel grey and a mane and tail of blackest black. He was all saddled up in a full new tack of smooth black leather with silver and turquoise stone accents. He was the Dean equivalent of a really . . . really nice one carat Tiffany engagement ring.

 

“Oh Dean.” Sam sighed as he walked up to the head of the horse. “Where did you find him?”

 

“I’ve been trolling the sales.”

 

“You shouldn’t be spending all your money like that.” He said absently as he stroked the big animal’s neck.

 

“I get paid a butt load of money and I have no expenses, so unless you’re planning on bumping me off for your inheritance, I might as well spend it on you now.”

 

Sam was done arguing as he was lost in the big liquid brown eyes of his new best friend. He ran his big hands up and down the horse’s face and around his head. “Hey Blue, I’m Sam. You’re a beautiful boy, aren’t you?” Sam smiled a grin so full of joy that Dean hadn’t seen in a long time. “I think we’re going to be spending a lot of time together.”

 

Dean leaned back crossing his arms across himself pretty pleased with his decision. “Well Sammy?”

 

“He’s awesome.” He let go of the bridle and stepped over to wrap his arms around Dean. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too.”

 

Sam kissed him slow and sensual just like Dean liked it, and just when Dean started to really like it Sam broke the connection, stepping over and throwing himself up onto the horse. “What do you say we take him out and see what he’s got?”

 

 

Chempala was an awesome horse, Dean would never let anyone say any different, but he was also about ten years older and almost two hands shorter than the new arrival so it was little wonder that Sam and Blue ran circles around Dean. Sam was not a gloater though, so Dean was pleased that all the whooping and laughter was just Sam getting to know his new friend.

 

Dean reined up on top of a small rise and just sat watching Sam cool Blue down through a canter and then a trot, Sam reaching down frequently to stroke and rub the big neck and talk in his ear. The big stallion wouldn’t get too cold out here in the sun, but Sam wouldn’t want to cause him any distress. Dean smiled as he realized that he really had scored a home run here. Dean dismounted, laid out the blanket and (oh hell, he might as well admit it), the picnic and cracked himself a beer.

 

Sam finally dismounted leaving the two horses ground tied together. He threw himself down with Dean. “He’s amazing. You’re amazing.” He leaned in to kiss Dean. “Yes by the way.”

 

“What?”

 

“Well, I thought you were equating this little gift with my engagement ring.” Dean laughed a bit in his throat; he’d almost forgotten the implied question. “The answer would be yes.” He started undoing the buttons on Dean’s shirt.

 

“What about lunch Sam?”

 

“Mmmm, let’s see, dry turkey sandwiches or licking you all over.” Dean was initially insulted on behalf of his sandwiches, but couldn’t keep that up in the face of Sam’s baritone rumbling straight to his dick. “I really think I’m going to be licking you all over.”

 

Every button that Sam opened got his lips on Dean somewhere. Sam licked and nipped around his throat, pushing Dean back to lie down on the blanket. Sam ran one of those big hands up Dean’s chest pushing the shirt off his shoulder and back to stroke the length of Dean’s neck running his thumb up the line of Dean’s jaw. Sam heard the breath leave Dean as he Sam’s mouth locked down across his throat, tongue licking big swirls into the hollow of Dean’s neck.

 

Dean lay back enjoying, for now, the sensual feel of Sam’s tongue against his sun warmed skin. He ran his hand lazily through Sam’s long, soft hair as his lover lapped and nipped at his nipples and seemed to trace each of his ribs with that magnificent tongue. When Sam’s hands closed around Dean’s belt buckle Dean stopped him. Sam frowned, not quite the reaction he was used to. “Take your shirt off Sam, I need some skin too, baby.”

 

Sam smiled as he rose up to his knees and slowly unbuttoned his shirt letting it fall away. He knew Dean liked this visual, and it gave him a certain charge to know that he turned his partner on. Sam moved up Dean’s torso to kiss him and Dean sighed when he got the skin on skin that he had craved. They lay for a few minutes, kissing, caressing and loving before Sam looked into Dean’s deep green eyes. “Can I go back to the licking now please?”

 

Dean smiled. “Well far be it from me to refuse my Sammy.” He had been expecting more of Sam’s sensual tongue play so he cried out when Sam engulfed his whole length licking swirling patterns up the bottom side of Dean’s engorged cock.

 

Sam’s greatest satisfaction was the noises that he could wring out of Dean. He pushed Dean’s beautiful thick thighs up and buried his nose in the salty sweet musk of Dean’s perineum, his tongue sneaking out to tease at his pretty pucker. Dean moaned and writhed above him and Sam had to adjust for his own cock pushing painfully against the denim. Sam held on to the base of Dean’s shaft while his tongue and throat did all the work and then he pushed one finger past Dean’s ring of resistance and it was allover. Dean came in waves of pleasure that rippled through him like circles on the pond.

 

After Sam soothed Dean all the way back down he smiled into his lover’s neck. “What now, cowboy?” Sam’s voice tickled on his skin as his fingers tickled across Dean’s belly. “You want me inside?”

 

“No.” Dean sighed, his eyes closing lazily. “I want to watch you come.”

 

Sam couldn’t believe how that statement shot straight to his cock and wouldn’t have thought he could get any harder, but there it was. Sam got back up to his knees and cradled Dean’s face in his hands while Dean opened his pants. Sam wasn’t usually the ‘visual’ guy so he was surprised at how incredibly hot Dean looked from this angle and then when he wrapped those beautiful lips around Sam’s prick . . . he almost lost his load right there. Sam steadied himself with his hands on Dean’s shoulders and Dean could tell he was getting close by the pressure those hands applied.

 

Dean watched Sam and from his angle he was the most beautiful creature that Dean had ever seen. The sun was shining off his bronze skin, pulling the red highlights out of his chestnut hair, backlighting him in its golden glow. Dean couldn’t believe he hadn’t done this before. The hands on his shoulders were almost painful now and Dean looked up again to see Sam’s head thrown back as his balls tightened up against his body. Dean swallowed through the beginning of Sam’s release, but leaned back to watch and the next pulse landed on his cheek before he reached out his tongue to catch the last.

 

Sam looked down as he finished into Dean’s loving eyes looking up at him with Sam’s seed still on his cheek. Sam cradled Dean’s face in his hand using his thumb to wipe it from his cheek. Dean turned quickly capturing and sucking Sam’s thumb, not willing to let any of him go to waste. Sam pulled his thumb out and took Dean’s face in his hands to kiss him deep and long, their tongues stroking back and forth tasting each other.

 

Neither men noticed the horses whinnying and shuffling together, nor were they likely to notice the rider up on the ridge.

 

 

Lucky managed to hold on to his lunch, but spit the rising bile on the ground beside him and wiped his hand roughly across his mouth. He wanted to quit his job, wanted to be away from this horrible place, but he’d never found anyone who would put up with him like John Winchester. No, why should he have to suffer because of them? No Lucky wouldn’t leave, but something had to give, that was for sure.


	21. But Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend

Carol finished setting the table just as she heard the back door rattle when the two boys rough housed into it. She smiled. “Just because you two don’t live here anymore, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t leave the door on its hinges.”

 

“Yes Ma’am.” They said together.

 

As they moved on into the kitchen to take their seats, but Sam noted an absence. “Where’s dad?”

 

“Late.” She stated and Sam instantly regretted asking the question. “He was supposed to get me something from town yesterday, but forgot and so he ran in there now and he’s late.”

 

The boys weren’t even to the table when John came quickly in through the front door to put his package in the fridge and kiss her cheek. “Not late enough to bust me to the kids dear.”

 

Sam and Dean exchanged a quick look of bemused delight. Was that what tonight was about? Were they finally going to get confirmation of long held suspicions?

 

There was a tiny flush in her cheeks when she looked back to them. “It will be if their steaks are cold.”

 

With everyone in their places, and the food circling the table, there were furtive glances between Sam and Dean as they could each tell that they each wanted to ask the question. While Dean had always been quite close to Carol, Sam had spent an increasing amount of time with her in these last few months and they were everything to each other now.

 

“So what do you think of your new beast?” John asked with a smile.

 

“Dad, he’s amazing.” Sam enthused. “It’s like he already knows me.”

 

“He’s going to eat us out of house and home you know.”

 

“Come on, he’s not that big.”

 

“How big is he anyway?” Carol asked. It had been her job to distract Sam from the horse truck coming in the day before so she hadn’t seen Blue yet.

 

“Just a bit over seventeen hands.” Dean mumbled around a mouthful of potatoes.

 

“Oh Carol, you have to come see him.” Sam gushed. “I’ll even put you up on him.”

 

“No thank you, Sam.” And they proceeded into the habitual round of who-lives-on-a-ranch-and-doesn’t-ride?

 

Conversation stayed painfully neutral right through dinner and to desert; Dean’s favorite, pecan pie and Sam’s favorite, peach cobbler, and coffee in the front parlor. “Can’t help feeling like this is a last meal Carol.” Dean joked. “You’ve made all our favorites.”

 

“It just makes it more fun to watch the two of you squirm.” She smiled.

 

“What?” Sam chuckled.

 

“She’s been planning this for a week.” His father smiled. “She really thought she could get one of you two to ask.”

 

“Ask what?” Dean provided being deliberately obtuse and bringing a smile to her face.

 

“Well boys, it’s been a long time, but I’ve finally decided to make an honest man of your father.”

 

Sam was the first on his feet and practically picking her up out of her chair. “I’m so happy for you guys.” Sam smiled through the tears in his eyes. “You should have done it years ago.”

 

“Yea,” Dean gave John a hug with a slap on the back. “It’s not like this family doesn’t already give the village enough to talk about.” He moved over and looked down and gave Carol his sweet Dean smile but she didn’t give him the chance to speak yet.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“I didn’t say anything.” He grinned.

 

“No, I mean thank you for bringing them together; for making us a family.”

 

“Oh, not me . . .”

 

“Yes it was Dean, somehow you got through to him; you brought him back home, back to his father and healed John too.” Dean wasn’t ready for that and had no words for her now.

 

“Well Sammy,” Dean began around a large chunk in his throat. “I guess we know what we’re doing now for Memorial Day.”

 

* * *

 

Sam stood on the top balcony of the main house looking down on the party going full swing in his back yard. He reflected on the life they had settled into here. He had tried to make his life elsewhere; tried everything to make a life elsewhere, but had come back here for the two things that made his life worth living. Dean and his ranch. Sam didn’t necessarily relish the neighborhood.

 

The ranch was a massive chunk of the north east corner of the state of Texas. There were two other big ranches and a few smaller operations that supported ‘the village’ that they referred to which had a postal outlet, general store, feed store and a garage. The population of the village was primarily ranch workers who didn’t like to live on their spreads or who had larger families than the bunk houses provided for. While the village would survive the loss of one of the ranches, it wouldn’t like it and Sam could pretty much believe in the friendships from there.

 

The town was a bit further away and had a lot more going for it, like a few restaurants, bars, hotels, the hospital and like every other town in Middle America, a Wal Mart. The town wouldn’t likely notice if John Winchester’s business was gone nor would Sam want to trust anyone from there to have his back.

 

The Winchester’s had always had an easy time of doing business in and around both the village and the town, but it was still pretty obvious, that even in his own home, amongst his father’s own ‘people’, Sam should find himself a nice comfy spot in the closet behind the powder blue tux his father had been married in.

 

Carol was absolutely glowing even though they all knew that their friends from town believed she had already been warming John’s bed all these years. Her girls from the village knew better and that was what mattered to her. People were nice to have around, she believed, because a party just needs bodies and it was good for business. Sam didn’t need four years at Harvard to tell him that if he wanted to stay in business in Texas they had better not be the gay ranch.

 

To those ends, Sam would go down to the party and play host to people who would go home full of Winchester beef and beer and tell each other and their friends their own theories about those Winchester boys. Sam knew that most of those people speculated about Dean and why such a good looking man never dated all those pretty girls that would have him. Sam had also recently started noticing conversations stop when he came within earshot but he would hold his tongue.

 

So Sam descended the stairs and out on to the back patio every inch the Texas cowboy. He wore a cobalt blue western style shirt over black jeans, his good black boots with his somewhat stereotypical black Stetson.

 

He found Carol first, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “You look so beautiful.” He told her. She was dressed in a peach shirtdress with an emerald scarf in the neck. Her auburn hair fell loosed and curling around her shoulders.

 

She readily accepted her new role as the lady of the house as she smiled and greeted each guest with an easy charm Carol knew something about everyone at the party, some generally accepted, some whispered out the side of your mouth as you gave the smile and wave. It wouldn’t matter; everyone would leave this party with nothing but good things to say. “And don’t you look the Texan.” She grinned up at him.

 

“Yea,” He smiled back, “Like I needed to look taller.” She laughed; a happy sound that would have been at home in a woman ten years younger. “I’m so happy for you.”

 

“You keep saying that.”

 

“Well it’s true. You’ve put up with a lot; raising me, waiting for him.” He nodded at his father who was busy working the crowd.

 

She was still looking at him when he looked back, her affection obvious in her eyes. “Well worth it on both counts.” Sam felt a little heat in his cheeks. “He’s really proud of you, you know.”

 

“I don’t know about that.” Sam looked back at his dad. “Not much of an heir.”

 

“You listen to me boy,” She began sternly. “He was sure that he had caused you all that pain and that’s what made you so sad for all those years. When we look at all the changes you’ve made, the man you’ve become, honey, it just fills him up. You made those changes, you stepped above it all and you’ll be the best combination of businessman and rancher these parts have ever seen.”

 

Sam looked back down at her face again. “Thanks,” His throat closed around his feelings. “Thanks mom.”


	22. Not So Lucky

“Is Carol all right?” John asked from Sam’s left as he watched her go into the house to clean up the tears that streamed down her cheeks.

 

Sam shrugged and rolled his eyes. “I said the right thing, wrong time.”

 

“Oh.” John seemed to understand. “Anyway, Sam, I think you remember Drew McDermid.”

 

“Of course Mr. McDermid, how are you?”

 

“Great, Sam, your dad always throws a hell of a party even without an excuse. Did you ever think he’s tie the knot again?”

 

Sam chuckled. “No sir.”

 

“Before I let you two get too carried away on this, Drew thinks he may be able help you with the tests on the new grass seed you’re working on.”

 

“I have these scrubby foot hills and your dad says this stuff will grow just about everywhere.”

 

“That’s the point, anywhere and fast. Smaller spreads have a hard time free ranging beef because they just don’t have the acreage to support it.”

 

“So theoretically if I can grow grass on the scrap land then I can graze more up there.”

 

“Exactly, or it comes back faster on your good land. We have it growing back in almost half the time.”

 

John stepped away, leaving them discussing particulars, and went into the house to find his fiancé. He found her fixing her eye liner. “Honey?”

 

“I really thought I was going to be okay if he said it, thought I was ready for it.” She smiled.

 

John smiled. “He called you mom?”

 

She nodded. “Can it really get any better from here?” She walked into his arms.

 

“We can sure try.”

 

* * *

 

“You called her mom, didn’t you?” Dean grinned from beside Sam.

 

“Okay, who knew it was going to upset her?” Sam asked in exasperation.

 

“She’s not upset; you just made her pretty much the happiest woman ever.”

 

“I guess.” Sam sighed. “Doesn’t everyone want a kid just like me?” He finally turned to Dean and really wished he hadn’t because now he was up to dirty thoughts and that wasn’t helping. Sam was pretty sure he was going to have to peel Dean’s jeans off later, they were so tight. Dean’s dress boots and hat were tan leather and he wore a shirt of oxblood linen over a black T that may or may not have been body paint.

 

“You look amazing. Do you know how bad I want your feet in the air, right now?” Dean asked through clenched teeth as he smiled and waved at Dylan Ray who was the foreman from two ranches over.

 

Sam moaned a little, low in his throat. “About as much as I want to lick that t-shirt off of you.” Sam growled, his lips barely moving so they might or might not be having this conversation at all. “I swear though, if you give me wood in the middle of my dad’s engagement party, we’re going to be in big trouble.”

 

“I don’t care what these people think.” Dean turned back.

 

“If you want to keep buying me expensive ponies you will.” Sam smiled. “And I like my ponies.”

 

Dean threw his head back and laughed. “You sure do.” And he had to think of old people sex and train crashes and nuclear bombs and . . . okay, all gone now. “I’m going to mingle, I guess.”

 

But before they could move off they heard a voice they knew too well, delivering news they didn’t need. “You boys think you have all these people fooled don’t you?”

 

“What’s that Lucky?” Dean turned, not quite menacingly, but sober people would have backed down.

 

“They don’t know what you are. Or they don’t admit what you are, but I do.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“You think I won’t call you faggot Dean?” Lucky seemed to focus his anger on Dean. “I’m not afraid of you, Singer. I’m not afraid of the boss’s kid. Hell, why don’t we just say this is me giving my notice.”

 

While Dean had been wary since the beginning of the conversation, he was not ready when Lucky’s left collided with his jaw. Dean reeled taking a step back and Sam lurched to catch him or push Lucky off, but found himself being restrained as Lucky got hold of Dean’s lapel and connected with a strong right.

 

Sam struggled against the arms holding him and when he found he couldn’t break the hold, did the next best thing. “Dad!”

 

As Lucky worked Dean over, the crowd around them was murmuring and shuffling around; there were too many women and older men to be of any use, but they were sending word for help. Dean finally recovering from the surprise of the initial sucker punch was evening up the score, Lucky’s own inebriation working against him.

 

Just as Sam saw John, Jeremiah and Dave coming through the crowd his arms were released and his captors lost in the crowd before Sam could react. Sam stepped quickly to Dean’s arm, but remained mindful of their situation and the audience, keeping his hands to himself.

 

“Dean, are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine Sam.” Dean replied wiping the back of his hand across his cheek and the corner of his mouth, testing the swelling and clearing the blood. Dean could feel that left eye swelling though and he knew he wasn’t going to be pretty for a few days but nothing was broken and his teeth weren’t loose.

 

“Dean?” John’s voice drifted over to him. Dean was hurt and frustrated and he just wanted to get home and let his Sammy clean him up, but if one more person talked to him right now, he knew he was going to cry in front of all these people and Dean Singer could not let that happen.

 

“Dave.” Dean growled. “I think someone needs to sleep off our booze in your jail.”

 

Dave was there as a guest so Dean fully intended to bust him for why he had his cuffs on him, but really didn’t mind at that moment. The young sheriff’s deputy read Lucky his rights and led him to the squad car. No one was terribly surprised by Lucky’s parting shot, “You’ll regret this Singer.”

 

But Lucky didn’t hear Dean. “I already do.”

 

* * *

 

They were seated around the kitchen table, Sam trying to clean Dean up, but Carol was fussing about, fresh tears on her cheeks now, but a different kind.

 

“He’s okay Mom,” Sam soothed, the new name coming easier each time. “I just want to take him home.”

 

“The yard is still full of people.” She started. “A lot of questions to answer. Have a beer and wait a few minutes while your dad gets them going.”

 

“Oh, I don’t care what these people think.” Dean spit again.

 

“You keep saying that Dean, but we both know that you do.” Sam stroked his cheek gently and placed a soft kiss on his lips. “So let’s have that beer, you can let that Tylenol do it’s thing and then I’ll take you home and really look you over for damage.”


	23. Ruined Evening

John came in the back door, sadness written in his posture. Carol walked to the fridge and met him at the table with a beer as he joined his boys. She rubbed a hand across his shoulder and he squeezed her hand.

 

“Dave wants to know if you want to press charges. I told him you’d call in the morning.”

 

“Of course he’s going to press charges.” Carol protested.

 

“Carol, honey, sit down.” He smiled at her weakly. “It’s up to Dean.”

 

Dean exchanged glances with Sam who gave a noncommittal shrug, supportive of any decision Dean wanted to make. “I’ll sleep on it, but probably not.”

 

“Probably not?” Carol was indignant, not unexpectedly. “How can you let him get away with this?”

 

Dean sighed heavily and wouldn’t meet her eyes. “No court is going to give him any time for picking a fight with a homo, Carol and then he’s just going to be out and even madder.” He drained his beer. “And the only thing worse than a stupid redneck bigot is a pissed off stupid redneck bigot.” His chair scraped the floor. “Sam I want to go home now.” Sam nodded. They got to the door and Dean half turned back. “Sorry about the party. It should have been about you guys, not this.” And he was out the door.

 

* * *

 

Sam had started a shower, washed both their hair and rubbed Dean’s shoulders for a bit before leaving to go light them a fire. He knew it was May, but there was the damp of a spring rain coming and he thought that Dean might like the comfort. He had the whiskey and glasses ready and put Dean’s favorite CDs in the changer. Lucky was a shit! Sam wanted to scream at someone, anyone, smash something. How could anyone be so malicious? Sam had never expected acceptance from everyone, hell he was surprised they had acceptance from so many, but then to show up just to be vindictive. Sam still just couldn’t understand what drove people to hate.

 

Dean let the water course over him. He had long since stopped bleeding but still felt like parts of him were rolling down that drain. Dean had long known that he was out of place, that being . . . who he was, where he was didn’t work together. He knew he could go East, probably not north, but Florida would accept him, or California, Nevada, he could take Chempala to Nevada. . . The point was that acceptance was out there but Dean had always chosen his home over the approval of strangers, going to seedy, awful bars in Dallas, Fort Worth and just about every big city across the state when he traveled for John. Dean had always managed his appetites in far flung places with anonymous strangers, tall dark haired strangers . . . but it just felt like the minute he actually made a choice to live honestly and so happy that something would have to ruin it.

 

He padded out to the living room in his bare feet with his sleep pants on. He stood in the doorway for a moment just watching Sam. He lay on his side, propped up on his elbow, his top knee bent and set on the floor in front of him. He was concentrating on a set of reports that lay on the floor in front of him which brought that tiny frown to his forehead. He swirled a shot of whiskey in his hand lazily taking tiny sips frequently. Sam looked so contented in his own skin that Dean suddenly felt equal parts of respect and resentment. He knew what Sam had told him about his years away at school and he believed it but he had never asked Sam how much of the time he spent locked in his own head in high school was spent on these questions. He had often wondered if Sam had looked at him the way Dean had looked at Sam.

 

“You got one of those for me?” He nodded towards the glass.

 

“Yea, do you want ice?”

 

“No, I’m good.” He said dropping into a lotus position

 

“Feeling any better?”

 

“Oh, I’ll be fine, Sam.” Dean smiled. “Lucky never could throw a punch.”

 

Sam sat up opposite Dean in the same position. “You know I’m not talking about the shiner.”

 

“I know Sam.” He said quietly. “But really I’ll be fine.”

 

Sam shook his head in frustration. “Dean, part of being partners is sharing everything. If you shut me out and don’t let me in to try and help you, how do you expect us to keep growing?”

 

 

“Sam when did you first know that you loved me?”

 

“What?” His face screwed up in confusion. “I told you, I think I always knew.”

 

“But really knew for sure.”

 

“I don’t know, what day did I call dad and tell him I was coming home for the summer? I always knew that my feelings for you were different than they should be. But that day is when I knew I had to push those limits, test the theory.” Sam gently took the bruised hand in his and gently checked the scrapes. “Why Dean, what does that have to do with this?”

 

“I have known in my heart that I loved you since I was eighteen years old.”

 

“But then I was only . . .”

 

“You should applaud my restraint.” Dean interrupted with a guilty smile. Somehow there were still things that couldn’t be said out loud.

 

“So you really have waited ten years?”

 

“Mm, and for all those ten years these . . . people,” He bit the word off, clearly wanting to say something worse. “Have whispered about me behind my back and some before I even turned my back. They don’t think I know but they all talk about why I never dated all the girls that threw themselves at me.” He took Sam’s hand in his lacing their fingers together. “And now that I’ve actually got what I waited and smiled through all their back stabbing crap, now I have to deal with Lucky and his bull shit. I guess I’m a little angry.”

 

“Dean, when Lucky said you would regret it, you said you already do. You didn’t mean . . .”

 

“You? Christ Sam, have you not been listening?” He sighed and the big fat tears that welled up in his green eyes began to fall. “I guess I regret that we didn’t stay in Boston where we could be who we are. I regret that it had to ruin Mom and Dad’s party. I regret that people like Lucky have to hate me for no good reason.”

 

And big, tough Dean Singer fell against Sam’s shoulder and sobbed.


	24. Stars

Every two months the stock had to be moved to the next set of fields which took about three days for two crews. Once a week, one or two riders went out and traced the route making sure that there was enough food, that there were no gaping holes in the fences, doing a rough head count, general housekeeping. Following a long Saturday night during which Dean worked through ten years of hiding his solitude behind his game face, Sam decided that he and Dean should go and do the job. In the end it was Sam who talked to Dave about Lucky.

 

“Dean doesn’t want to.”

 

“Steve really thinks you should. Steve thinks it needs to be on the books, if nothing else. You could Sam, as owner of the property, press charges for assaulting a guest at your party.”

 

“I’m sorry Dave; Dean thinks he’ll be more dangerous if he’s more pissed. Dean really just wants to forget it happened.”

 

“I’m afraid that doesn’t always pan out the way you want it to either.”

 

“No, I know.” Sam sighed. “Anyway, Dean and I are riding out in an hour or so, so if you want to bring him back here, Dad and Jer will take him to the bunks to get his stuff and his pay pack is here.”

 

“You’re paying him?”

 

“And a healthy severance package. The last thing I want is for him to come back and sue us because we didn’t pay him out properly.”

 

“I guess I see your point.”

 

* * *

 

Dean was still asleep when Sam made his way up to the main house to see what Carol had insisted on packing into the saddlebags for their supper. “How is he?” She asked. It didn’t look to Sam that she had slept well and when eventually he saw his father it was apparent that there was a lot of conversation in this house as well.

 

“He will be fine.” Sam fell into a chair his shoulders stooping as he seemed to go boneless. “I didn’t do him any favors, did I?’

 

“What do you mean Sam?” Her question was genuine, but Sam suspected she knew more of the answer than she was letting on.

 

“All that time that I was here in my tight little shell and everyone spent all their time and energy trying to fix me, no one noticed that Dean was struggling because he smiled his way through it.” She set a cup of coffee in front of him and he met her eyes. “Did you know?”

 

Carol sat and stared into her own coffee. “When he was thirteen, we sat here just like this and he told me how he felt. He wanted to quit playing football because he kept having accidents in the locker room. He asked me how to tell Nancy Purvis that he didn’t want to be her study partner.” She took a drink, avoiding Sam’s eyes. “We never said the words; I don’t even think Dean has ever said it out loud.” She fingered her engagement ring, (a split pave circular diamond cluster with her birthstone in the middle), that gave her another moment to collect her thoughts. “He was about seventeen and a half or eighteen when he came to me about you, no, it was definitely before his birthday. He knew he had feelings for you but he didn’t know how you felt. I tried to get him to talk to you, for the next four years until you went away, but he just started going to those places.” Carol didn’t know what to say here, it was clear that while she could accept her boys together, she had difficulty with Dean going to "those" places and doing "those" things with anyone else. Sam could hardly get sanctimonious about it; he was the poster child for selective homosexuality. “I tried to be supportive Sam, I really did, but it was hard sometimes, we just weren’t raised that way here. Sometimes all I could see was how hard it was for him and I just couldn’t figure out why he didn’t just . . .” Her voice dropped out a bit as tears filled her eyes. She had been his only outlet for all his teenaged angst and as much as she had wanted to fix everything for her boys, she had never found a solution for either of them.

 

“Make a deal with Nancy Purvis.” Sam suggested with a smile.

 

Carol laughed as she got up from the table. “Maybe.” She handed him his saddlebags. “Rib eyes, corn on the cob, potatoes in foil. You do know how to do it all.”

 

“Yes ma’am, I’ve done a few camp fires in my day.”

 

“I love you boys.” She burst out unexpectedly. “I would give my life if I thought it would save you any of this pain but I’m afraid you’re in it for whatever you get now. I am so glad you finally found each other and as much as I hate the cold, I would visit you in Connecticut.”

 

Sam smiled around the ice in his throat. “Point taken.” He kissed her cheek. “See you tomorrow night.”

 

* * *

 

Sam found his father saddling Blue up for him. “Damn boy, this is one beautiful creature.”

 

“Did you ride him yet?” Sam smiled rubbing a hand up the big fellows face.

 

“Wouldn’t think of it.”

 

“Oh, come on, you know I don’t want another Chempala.” Sam smiled referring to the fact that Dean’s horse couldn’t be ridden by anyone else. “What if something happens or I have to go on a business trip or something. Blue needs to know someone else.”

 

“It’s just too early son.”

 

“You horse people.” Sam scoffed as his big equine rubbed the side of his head against Sam’s like a hug.

 

“Yea, you can keep telling yourself that you’re not son, but even the horse knows you’re one of us.” John laughed, but it was short lived. “How’s Dean?”

 

“He’ll be fine. This little trip will clear him right up.”

 

“Charges?”

 

“He refuses. Steve wants us to so that it’s at least on the record. Dave says the owner of the property can do it, but Dean is adamant that we not piss the little bastard off.”

 

“And you? What do you think?”

 

“I think that Dean isn’t giving Lucky enough credit. He seems to think it was just off the cuff, but keep in mind that Lucky was prepared enough to have buddies to restrain me.” Sam balled his fists up. “I think that Lucky is vicious and cruel and a little bit evil, but if Dean doesn’t want to shine any more light on the situation I have to respect his wishes.”

 

“I’m so glad you two found each other.” John smiled through the tears in his eyes. “I’ll talk to Steve and see if a restraining order will fit the bill.”

 

“Worth a shot, thanks Dad.” They walked back as far as the cottage together just as Dean came out on to the porch.

 

“Have fun boys.”

 

“Thanks John.” Dean waved. Then he took a quick look at Sam. “A whole hour to get some food and saddle a couple horses? You need practice son.”

 

“Oh wait now, coddling the folks. You forgot all about coddling the folks.”

 

“Worried them a bit, did I?”

 

Sam snaked his fingers into Dean’s. “Some jackass beat you up for being the most awesome person that we all know. They just want to make sure you’re going to be okay.”

 

Dean eyed up the saddle bag. “Rib eye?”

 

Sam frowned suspiciously. “Yea.”

 

“I’m gonna be just fine Sam.”

 

With a laugh and a final pat, Sam swung up into his saddle and led the way out of the yard.

 

* * *

 

For much of the day they didn’t see anything of each other leaving great chunks of time to fill in their own heads. Sam was right, Dean would work through the rest of his feelings during the day, maybe another conversation after dinner and then he would be back to Dean tomorrow, but what about Sam? He was still so angry about it, still tempted to ride back and have Lucky charged, damn the consequences. How dare he attack what was Sam’s? How dare he threaten what was Sam’s? But while possessive Sam might be sexy in the bedroom, in real life he wouldn’t make much of a partner now would he. Above all, that’s what he wanted them to be in every aspect of their lives.

 

Dean was breathing deeply just trying to fortify his spirit. He had spent a lot of emotion last night telling Sam things he had never intended to. Who knew tears could be so exhausting. And Sam, Sam just held him and listened; there wasn’t one moment that Dean thought Sam might be disappointed or disgusted, just quiet love and acceptance. Well worth the wait, Dean smiled.

 

Dean had the campfire built when Sam came over the rise at just after six. Dean shook his head as he marveled at his cowboy again. He could have bought a smaller horse, fifteen hands would have been plenty big for Sam, but then Blue had come off the truck and up onto the sale floor and it was as if he looked right at Dean, saying 'take me to Sam'. Dean chuckled to himself, but when he saw them together, they were perfect. They looked so formidable coming over the rise though; the old west had needed them, no one would rustle from Sam Winchester.

 

“How was your day?” Dean asked.

 

“Uneventful, so awesome, I guess. You?”

 

“Same. Makes my job easier.”

 

They played catch while they waited for the fire to heat up and the potatoes and corn to cook. Dean unpacked the plates and beers while Sam grilled the steaks, since they only just kissed the grill you couldn’t walk away. “Mmmm, it’s good Sam, really good.”

 

“Carol made the potatoes, but thanks.”

 

“I think she’s going to be a really good mom.”

 

Sam smiled. “Poor thing’s been waiting long enough, don’t you think?”

 

After supper Sam cleaned up the dishes while Dean had been busy laying out the blankets and now lay back using his saddle as a pillow. “Do you think we should put up the tent?”

 

There hadn’t been anything in the forecast so when Sam looked up at the cloudless sky he just shook his head. Dean reached up for him, inviting him to lie down. Sam accepted, but lay perpendicular to Dean, his head on the other man’s chest. “Are you going to tell me more stories?”

 

“Oh, I think there’s going to be a lot less talking tonight.”

 

“Why Dean, whatever do you mean?” Sam smiled.

 

“That’s why I was pissed off last night, I had you all plied with free booze and then we got taken out of the moment.”

 

“Since when do you need to ply me with anything?”

 

“I guess it’s a good thing that it was free booze then.” He opened the buttons of Sam’s shirt tickling fingers down his chest as he went. Sam giggled and then did a crazy flip and roll thing that brought him level with Dean, his mouth covering his lover’s, the tip of his tongue tracing the lines of Dean’s lips begging for passage. Dean opened them slowly but then his tongue joined San’s in a dance of slippery, sliding tastiness that held so much arousal for Dean that his insides wanted to go all gooey. Some days Dean was convinced that he could come just from one of those kisses.

 

Sam looked into Dean’s eyes and smiled. “It’s a beautiful clear night Dean.” Sam began while getting Dean’s shirts off. “Who’s up for a little stargazing?”

 

“You know I suck at that game.”

 

Sam gave him a sultry grin. “You might.”

 

After the last time they had played this game, Dean had studied up on his star charts and had come up with a game plan. “Eridanus.”

 

Sam nodded appreciatively and kissed up the side of Dean’s neck his breath blowing warm over the night cooled wet trail left by his tongue. “Whenever you want me to move to the next spot, Dean, just call another star.”

 

Dean left him there in the crook of his neck for a few more moments before calling out, “Camelopardalis.” Sam just moved across Dean’s throat to apply the same treatment to the other side of his neck which Dean wasn’t sure wasn’t just a bit of cheating. “Monoceros.”

 

Sam moved a slow trail down to Dean’s right nipple, the hot and cool air treatment there causing the little nub to become rock hard under Sam’s tongue. “Mmmm somebody’s been practicing.” Sam grinned.

 

“You enjoyed your game so much I figured you might bring it back.” Dean ran his hand through Sam’s hair. “Coma Berenices.”

 

Sam moved off to the other nipple and continued on down Dean’s chest as he called out the names of the stars over his head. It was soothing and sensual all at once. That was until Sam wet that lazy trail from Dean’s navel on down. Sam nibbled at Dean’s thigh gazing back up at him with a smile. “Are you ready?”

 

“I’m always ready for you.”

 

The way the game worked, Sam would swallow Dean to the root every time pulling off slowly, but only if Dean could come up with the stars. If Dean ran out of stars before he was done, he had to wait until after Sam. Seems easy enough until you have Sam’s incredible mouth on your shaft and you can hardly remember your own name, let alone constellations. Dean knew he couldn’t just memorize the names from a book because Sam was too smart for that, he would know if one of them wasn’t in the sky.

 

Dean started with “Sextans. Arcturus. Cepheus. Triangulum.” True to his word, every time, every star, Sam took all of Dean in, nuzzling his nose a bit in the thatch of Dean’s musk, his tongue twirling, twisting and teasing the sensitive underside on his way off. He smiled around the beautiful cock in his mouth at the new variety of stars that Dean had come up with. Sam could also see that he was leaving the easy ones until the end so when Dean started stuttering out “Aries, Capela, Lynx, Leo, Csssio . . . Cassio . . . Cassiopeia” that he was close. Sam ran his hands roughly up Dean’s thighs and as he pulled off, drew his hands back down digging his fingers into the tight muscles and it was as if it was Dean’s cue to let go as he exploded into Sam’s waiting mouth.

 

Sam pulled himself up beside Dean laying gentle kisses along his bruised jaw and finally his split and swollen lip. Dean could taste himself on Sam’s tongue and like always it sent a twitch straight to his dick. “What’s your flavor today baby?”

 

“Whatever it takes for you to get hard again, because I really need you inside me.”

 

“You keep talking like that and it’s not going to take too much.”


	25. Wedding Bells

Sam knew the biggest reason that he couldn’t compete with his Harvard classmates for all their high powered jobs was that he couldn’t rush things. He took his time at everything. Even with his rock hard cock screaming at him to just get Dean there, he couldn’t rush him because every low slow moan out of Dean went straight to Sam’s balls and it was worth every tingly moment.

 

Sam had tied a handkerchief around Dean’s eyes and spent over half an hour just kissing random places on Dean’s skin. Dean never knew where the next kiss would land and the anticipation of it was mind blowing. Shoulder, chest, hip, knee, elbow, neck, balls, pretty much everywhere but his prick which bobbed in anticipation every time. “Sam,” Dean squirmed. “Can I please fuck you already?” And very suddenly, Sam wasn’t in charge anymore. Dean sat up pushing the blindfold up over his eyes. “The pre-game show is awesome, honey, but now it’s my turn.”

 

Sam smiled. As much as he loved giving Dean pleasure just to hear those noises coming from his throat, he obviously had a vested interest in Dean taking over. “Yes sir.”

 

Sam dropped down beside Dean and they cuddled for a moment before Dean pushed Sam back flat on his back. He considered the blindfold trick, but discounted it as just not Dean. The sounds Dean made on Sam’s skin were obscene and Sam had to be glad that there was nothing but cattle to hear them out here. Dean bit and sucked big welts in places that clothes would hide and just plain licked the rest. Sam’s skin tasted like sunshine; honest to God sunshine and Dean just couldn’t get enough. Sam was so hungry and ready for Dean that he didn’t even notice when Dean pushed that first finger in and only a slight widening of his lust blown eyes gave any indication that the second had gone in. Dean put Sam’s legs up over his shoulders and set his slick cock against Sam’s begging opening.

 

“Oh Baby.” Sam cooed. “I want you so bad.”

 

“Then tell me the star Sam.”

 

“What star?”

 

“You have to name the star that I’m thinking of, or I’m not going to fuck you.”

 

Sam’s eyes went wide and he gaped just a little. “Are you kidding me?”

 

Dean’s prick rubbed lazily at its destination, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out long, but this way he had Sam just where he wanted him for a minute. “You play the game your way, I play mine.”

 

Dean let Sam rhyme off about thirty stars before he just slid on in. “You’re a jerk.” Sam smiled.

 

“Don’t bitch or I’ll make you name the rest.” As Dean set up his rhythm and started to hit the spot deep inside, Sam started calling out random stars. “Baby, what are you doing?”

 

“I’m just telling you what I see.”

 

* * *

 

After the Memorial Day party went so well, John and Carol decided on a quiet ceremony. So at sunset on Saturday July 15 in front of eighty or so friends and family on the terrace of the ranch they became Mr. & Mrs. John Winchester. Carol wore a strapless floor length chiffon gown with a beaded bodice and flowing skirts in champagne. Her shoulder length auburn hair was curled loosely and held back by an emerald & crystals comb that had belonged to her mother. Dean smiled as he watched her fidget in the mirror as if she was a twenty year old with no idea what she was getting into rather than the middle aged woman who had already seen too much. They had had a ‘family’ meeting to decide that Dean would walk Carol down the aisle and Sam would stand with his father.

 

For his part, John struck a handsome pose, in a classic single breasted tuxedo with white tie on white with French cuffs. He wore the horse shoe tie pin and cuff link set that was his father’s. The boys wore the same tux with regular black tie and were gifted horseshoes of their own. There was food and drink and dancing until dawn, Dean and Sam even snuck off to the shadows a couple times for dances of their own. Everyone knew, and most people smiled but the effort was still appreciated by all.

 

Somewhere around midnight, flush from perhaps one too many toasts, Carol stood between the boys, her arm wrapped around their waists and looked up at them as if they were towers. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy in my life.” She smiled and the each leaned down to kiss her in turn. “I just wish this night would never end.”

 

Sam shivered as if someone were dancing on his grave.


	26. Sudden Attack

It was a beautiful morning in September, still hot enough for just about anyone, but there was just that hint of autumn in the air. It was just before lunch when Sam said good bye to John and set off for town to do some banking that required his signature and pick up some dry cleaning. He reflected on the last two months how their family had come together, the ranch was prospering, life was just all together good. He had just rounded the curve of Binder’s Road on the right when he came across the late model Ford sedan skewed across his lane. He pulled off stepping down out of the Escalade but leaving his door open. He had a strange feeling about the situation, but his inner Samaritan won and he needed to find out if someone was hurt. By the time he heard the squeal of tires behind him it was too late and he was slammed down on the trunk of the Ford by two sets of strong arms. He heard three doors of the following vehicle slam shut. ‘Great,’ he thought ‘five to one.’

 

Sam wondered what he had done to warrant getting beaten up by five guys and then he was picked up roughly by his arms and flipped around so that he was now lying on the trunk looking up at his attackers. They weren’t worried about him identifying them since their faces, hair and eyes were covered with hats, glasses and masks. Suddenly their anonymity shot real fear into him.

 

There were two holding his arms down and two holding his legs so it was difficult for the fifth to get purchase enough to strike his face, but he had no problem pounding Sam’s kidneys and abdomen. When Sam was gasping for breath they let him up just enough so the leader could lift him from the car to pummel his face and head. He felt his eyes swelling shut as he started choking on the blood running down the back of his throat from his broken nose.

 

When Sam was pulped past even trying to squirm away and he was fairly convinced that he would die here on the side of the road without even knowing why, the leader provided the answer that made Sam’s blood run cold.

 

“You hold still now Winchester. We’re gonna show you how we cure queers here in Texas.”

 

At that moment, Sam felt as if time stopped. The horrible roaring in his ears died away to be replaced by the sound of belt buckles, zippers and cruel laughter. His own jeans were wrestled from him as he tried to find enough fight left but then he was spun around again and slammed down on the trunk even harder than before, if that was even possible. He couldn’t even try to make himself ready for what he knew was coming; he just tried to take himself to somewhere else.

 

These bastards weren’t having any of that.

 

There was a hand on each of his cheeks and they pulled him apart like they were trying to snap the wishbone. Sam took it as a cue and inhaled as deep as he could so that he was breathing out when the intrusion came. It helped, but not much and Sam would never have believed that there was a pain that incredible. “Dean!” He cried out instinctively only to have his assailant wrap a big hand in his hair and smash his face off the car. Sam tried to will himself to just pass out; to just die if necessary; whatever would end this the quickest.

 

But it wouldn’t end quickly for Sam. He lost track of time and the events started to blur together but he was fairly certain they all took a turn. Tears rolled down his face and he wasn’t even sure why anymore, pain, humiliation, it didn’t matter. Sam was a waste now and he didn’t know how he would be able to face another day when finally, blessedly, his eyes rolled back into his head and the black washed over him.


	27. Slow Recovery

“John?”

 

“Brian?” John answered, a bit confused to hear the banker on the phone. “Did Sam forget to dot his I or cross his t?”

 

“Well I was actually calling to find out what had happened to Sam. We're about to close the bank here and I thought that contract needed to be signed today.”

 

“What do you mean? He left here hours ago. He should have been there and home by now.”

 

“I don’t know what to tell you John, I haven’t seen him.”

 

“I’ll have to let you know Brian.”

 

“All right John. Good luck.”

 

For some reason that turn of phrase scared the hell out of John Winchester and he called for Carol. “Call the drycleaners in town and see if Sam’s been there.”

 

The look on his face alarmed her. “John, what’s wrong?”

 

“I don’t know.” He frowned at her. “But I’ve got a bad feeling.”

 

* * *

 

Max Logan had been a Winchester neighbor for most all of his life so when he came around the corner of Binder’s Road he immediately recognized the silver Escalade sitting there and he had a sick feeling that he knew exactly what the pile on the side of the road was. Max took in the state of the clothes and the sheer amounts of blood and his stomach lurched before he even got out of the vehicle. “Stay in the truck Betty.”

 

“What is it?” His wife Betty asked starting to get out of the pickup.

 

“I said stay in the fucking truck.” Betty looked angry and about to argue, but then she saw how white and stricken Max looked. “It looks like Sam Winchester.” He pulled out his cel to dial 911 but still heard Betty’s quiet, frightened question.

 

“What do you mean looks like? Can’t you tell?”

 

* * *

 

Dave was at a speed stop when the call went out over the radio. “Vicinity of Binder’s Road, Silver Escalade, one male casualty, condition and identity unknown. Ambulance and rescue required.”

 

He picked up his handset. “Mandy? Is it Sam?”

 

“I can’t tell you Dave. Max Logan called it in and he’s there,” Mandy’s voice cracked. “He says he can’t tell who it is.”

 

“What? Do you need me to go?”

 

“Steve’s closer to the scene, but I can’t raise John or Dean.”

 

“I’ll head to the ranch then.”

 

* * *

 

John was on his way to town to look for his boy when he heard the sirens and somehow knew that it was for Sam. He thought he was heading to the lights and then he realized that they were coming to him. He pulled over as Dave rolled down his window. “Dave?” John asked a quaver in his voice.

 

“It looks like it may be Sam, John.” He paused not sure how to proceed; a tremor in his own voice. “I think it’s bad. Do you want an escort?”

 

John shook his head. “Find Dean.”

 

* * *

 

Dave squealed through the gates of the ranch and on up the drive, his siren screaming all the way hoping to see some manner of life out here. This was a huge spread if Dean had happened to be out too far on the range. At the horse barns he skid the squad car to a halt and ran in to see if there was anyone around.

 

“Hello. Sheriff’s department, anyone here?” He moved on in hoping that Dean’s office wouldn’t be locked. If he could find a walkie he might get lucky.

 

“Who . . ?” Jeremiah came out of the tack room. “Dave? What’s wrong?”

 

“Where’s Dean?”

 

“He’s on his way back from the back nine.” Jer frowned. “Dave, what’s wrong?”

 

“Can you contact him? Sam’s been hurt.”

 

“His cel won’t work way out there, no, but he should have a radio.” Jer went to the office and rattled the door.

 

“Don’t suppose there’s a key?” Dave asked but Jer shook his head. “Of course not. Step back.” He put a boot to the, not too substantial lock and entered for the radio. He tried every channel calling for Dean insistently. There was a surge of relief in them both when Dean’s confused and alarmed question came over the air.

 

“Dave? What are you doing on my radio?”

 

“Thank God. Dean you need to get back here, as soon as.”

 

The voice changed, the cold steel of fear clear even through the radio. “Dave what’s wrong?”

 

“It’s Sam.”

 

* * *

 

When John and Carol arrived at the hospital, Sam was still in the trauma room, but they were prepping him for surgery. “I need to see my son.” John said calmly.

 

The nurse could see that it would be pointless to argue but remained stern. “They’ll be here for him very shortly and you will have to leave.”

 

John nodded. “Thank you.” He and Carol moved into the room and John pulled the single chair up to the edge of the bed. “Sam?”

 

Carol tried, but couldn’t hold the tears back as she looked down on Sam. He was covered in blood from she couldn’t count how many cuts and the sheets behind him were covered as well and her stomach lurched. His face was a mess, swollen eyes and broken nose, lips torn and scabbed. Then she heard his voice; their big, strong boy sounded so small and broken.

 

“They hurt me dad.” Carol knew that he wasn’t referring to what was obvious.

 

“I know son.”

 

“What am I gonna tell Dean?”

 

“What?”

 

“Can’t tell Dean.”

 

“Sam don’t be . . .” But his eyes were closed again just as the doctor came in.

 

“The medication’s finally kicked in.” He nodded to John. “Mr. Winchester. The orderlies will have to take him for anesthesia now.” John held his hand until he was pulled away and then his face fell into his hands as the tears came over him. Carol stepped over and put her hands on his shoulders. It was she who spoke to the doctor.

 

She was afraid that she already knew the answer, but the question had to be asked. “What have they done to him?”

 

The doctor was middle aged but clearly not used to the brutality he was seeing here and it was hard for him to keep his voice steady. “As you see he was brutally beaten; he has a broken nose, broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder. We have to operate to close off some internal bleeding.” He stopped there clearly not sure if he should finish it; if a man wants to hear about this kind of thing happening to his son.

 

Carol’s chin went up willing the tears to stay where they were. She had seen all that blood behind Sam and while she was afraid she already knew why Carol also knew they would need to hear it out loud. “And?”

 

The doctor nodded. “I’m sorry ma’am,” He hesitated again, enough to see the damage, still another to believe that any person could do such a thing to another. “He was raped repeatedly.” There was a sick sound from John. “I’m sorry sir, but we’re going in to do a colostomy so he’ll be able to heal.”

 

There was a long moment of silence and then a tiny voice from John. “How’s he going to heal from this?”

 

* * *

 

When Dave dropped Dean off, Steve had just arrived from the crime scene and was telling John what they knew. Dean stayed back where they came in and wasn’t seen.

 

“John, I am so sorry.” Steve said, his hand gripping the older man’s shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want to sit?”

 

“I’m fine.” Until he knew Sam would be okay, John was full of nervous energy. “What do you know?”

 

“Not much I’m afraid. Obviously it was a hate crime, plain and simple and we’ll be prosecuting to the full extent. There was ejaculate all over the crime scene and Sam and his clothing so DNA proof will be a slam dunk if we find them.” Steve’s head dropped.

 

“If?” John growled. “What do you mean if?”

 

“There was no sign that any of them tried to clean up any of their genetic material. It makes us fairly certain that they’re not in the system.” Dave watched as Dean’s hands balled in and out of fists. Just then the doctor came out, still in his surgical kit. “Sheriff.” He greeted. “Mr. Winchester, your son’s just gone into the recovery room, his mother’s with him.”

 

“Were my people able to get the pictures that they needed before you had to clean him up doctor?”

 

“They got plenty.” The doctor gave his head a little nod to the side. “Perhaps Mr. Winchester doesn’t want . . .”

 

“Mr. Winchester needs to know how bad this all is.”

 

The doctor nodded solemnly. “There were five assailants who raped him. There may have been others there, but we have five definitive samples. We did a scope while we had him under and the damage is not as extensive as we had feared. I can postulate why for court, but none of those reasons matter for us here.” Both John and the sheriff nodded for the doctor to continue without the details. “One of his testicles is bruised, I suspect from being trapped between him and the vehicle. Three ribs are broken, two cracked. There was some internal bleeding which turned out to be more severe than we initially suspected, but easier to find and his spleen and one kidney are slightly swollen and bruised. We’ve set his nose, but we’ll have to judge when his face has healed whether or not plastic surgery is necessary. It is impossible to tell at this point. His right shoulder was dislocated and we’ve reset that.”

 

John was shaking his head at the severity of it all, lost for words. “How long?”

 

“His physical recovery should be well on its way within four weeks or so. We’ll have to follow up with Mr. Winchester when he wants to reverse the colostomy.”

 

There was a sick retching sound from Dean’s position slightly around the corner; his anguish finally too much to contain.

 

“Dean.” John reached out his hand and went to meet him. Dean let the older man wrap him in his strong arms and pulled him close as the tears ran unchecked down his face. “We didn’t want you to hear all that.”

 

“What? Why?” Dean stepped away and looked at them all. “You don’t think I need to know that some redneck fucks beat and used up my Sam and left him to die on the side of the road? You don’t think I can handle that the fucking law can’t do anything about it? Jesus Christ John.” The fight so ready only moments ago dropping out like he had no air. “I have to see him.”

 

John nodded but the doctor put up a hand. “You are welcome to go in there Mr. Singer, but you need to be prepared for the fact that Sam might not want to see you.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

“Victims of sexual assault react very differently to their physical traumas than other kinds of attacks.”

 

“Okay.” Dean agreed with trepidation.

 

“He is likely to think that he is not and can never be attractive to you again.”

 

“That’s ridiculous.”

 

“It is, but it’s an enormous weight on their psyche and you cannot tell him any of his feelings are ridiculous. There is also the possibility that he may blame you.”

 

“Blame me. I would give anything that this had not happened to him.”

 

“I understand sir, and this is less frequent, but as your partner’s ‘protector’,” He emphasized with air quotes that this was a figurative, emotional role, not necessarily a literal, physical one. “He may resent that you weren’t there the one day that he needed you.”

 

Dean ran a hand over his face. “The one day when no one was around.” He muttered. Steve took a halting look at Dave just as Dave did the same; friends turning into investigators on one turn of phrase. “So can I see him?”

 

“I only ask that if he gets agitated that you leave.”


	28. A Little More Time

Carol met Dean at the door of the recovery room with a hug. Dean buried his face in her shoulder and the tears came. She rubbed his back and spoke quietly. “He looks really terrible, but they tell me it looks worse than it is. You’ll have to be gentle and be patient and strong, so dry up those tears. Time for that later.”

 

Dean crossed quietly to the front of Sam’s bed. Sam was laying on his side keeping his face mostly in the pillow. “Sammy?” Dean called quietly. “Baby, you awake?” Dean’s only indication was a silent tear that ran down Sam’s cheek. Dean took Sam’s hand in his. “I’m so sorry, Sam.” He reached up and pushed the stray strands of hair away from Sam’s face. Sam just dropped his face into the pillow to make it fall back across his face.

 

“Don’t.” His voice was raspy and harsh from the tube. “Don’t look at me.”

 

“Sammy, I just want to see you, make sure you’re okay.”

 

Dean pushed that piece back again and the steel glare that faced him nearly made him jump back. “Okay?”

 

“Sam, honey, you know what I mean.”

 

“Go away Dean.” Sam said, the silent tears starting again.

 

“Oh, Sam, I’m sorry. Don’t send me away.”

 

“Dean please, just come back tomorrow.”

 

Dean went on out to the hallway where Carol had waited and John had now joined her. She held her arms and he fell into them. “He won’t let me stay.”

 

“The doctor said . . .” John left the thought hanging.

 

“I know. I just thought maybe . . . maybe we . . .” He couldn’t finish, ‘maybe we’d be different’.

 

“Come on son, let us take you home and get some rest.” John said soothingly having already wept until he felt empty. His boy. . . and then he thought tears might come again.

 

* * *

 

Steve and Dave came to Sam the next morning in their civies. Dave could hardly believe how someone so battered and bruised could still look so white. Steve pulled the chair right up to Sam’s head and took his hand. Sam looked at him and Dave almost laughed at the effort Sam put into his usual quirked eyebrow. “Sam, we’ve been doing this for a long time and we have seen a lot of sexual assault victims, but they’ve never been our friend. There aren’t a lot of men on the books locally, so . . .” Steve swallowed hard. “I called a friend of mine in Dallas who called a friend of his in Houston and they agree that the most important thing for someone who’s gone through what you have is to know that his guy friends still see him as a man.” Tears caught in the Sheriff’s throat and he looked at Dave. “I think I’m making a hash up of this. What Dave and I came to ask you is if you want us to call someone else in to investigate this so that we can be here for you and we don’t have to know or ask any more about the personal stuff.”

 

Dave nodded as he patted Steve’s shoulder. And Sam laughed.

 

“Steve, you found me on the side of the road with my ‘personal stuff’ all over the place. You’ve stood up for being gay so I know I have the best friends. So now I need the best investigators to stand with me to find the bastards who did this.”

 

* * *

 

Dean came back first thing the next morning and Sam let Dean kiss his face, but Diana was there and when she offered to leave, Sam grabbed her arm in a grip like a vice and wouldn’t let her leave until Carol arrived.

Sam saw to it that for the week he was in the hospital he never saw Dean alone. Somehow Diana or Mandy or Belle or Carol was there with him. It was finally Belle who figured it out. “There’s nothing wrong with how you feel Sam.”

 

“What?”

 

“Everything you’re feeling is perfectly normal, but so is everything that Dean’s feeling.” She smiled weakly. “And he’s not to blame.”

 

His eyes snapped to her as if she’d slapped him. “What do you mean?”

 

He could see her jaw working in an effort to keep the tears where they belonged. “He’s a big tough cowboy and all he knows is ‘fix it’. He knows he can’t fix this. So he says stupid things like “are you okay?” that just don’t even come near what you’re going through. But this . . . this wasn’t even what most girls go through Sam; this was a true hate crime, not just against you, but against Dean too.”

 

Sam frowned at her. “I don’t see Dean in here sitting on fifty stitches.” He spit with a little more venom than even he intended.

 

Belle couldn’t hold the tears anymore, but now she was afraid to say something to Sam that would hurt him so she rose to leave. “You don’t think he’s suffering Sam? He found you after all those years of waiting for that one special person that one thing he wanted.” She swallowed hard, but her voice wavered. “And they’ve broken it.”

 

* * *

 

Dean brought John’s Cadillac CTS instead of the Escalade because he just wasn’t sure if Sam was going to have any issues with it. “Did they wreck my fucking truck too?” Sam asked bitterly.

 

“No. Its fine, I just wasn’t sure you’d want to take it yet.”

 

Sam nodded. He wanted to acknowledge all of Dean’s efforts, but he just couldn’t bring himself to it. When they reached the ranch Dean made the turn to go on to the cottage but Sam stopped him.

 

“No Dean.” He snapped and then softer. “I’m staying with Mom and Dad for a while.”

 

“What?” Dean asked, anguish written all over his features. “Why?”

 

“I just need some time Dean.” As always Sam wouldn’t meet his eyes.

 

“Sam, I didn’t do this.”

 

“What?” Sam looked horrified. “Of course you didn’t.”

 

“Then why are you punishing me?”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“No. Then what do you call this Sam?” Dean swallowed hard. “You won’t let me help you. All our lives, you’ve always come to me to make things better and I know this time there’s nothing I can do but you won’t even let me try.”

 

“Dean, I just can’t deal with this and you right now.” He sighed. “Let me get settled and then come back for supper.”

 

Sam could see Dean’s teeth grinding against each other while he took Sam’s bags out of the trunk and into the house. “Can I kiss you good bye.”

 

“Yea Dean, I think I’d like that.” Dean put as much as he could into a sweet soft kiss, mindful of the injuries still present. “I love you Sam, please remember how much I love you.”

 

“I do baby.” Sam traced the back of his knuckles down Dean’s cheek. “Just some time please.”

 

Dean came back for dinner and they tried to be normal, tried to be family, but Carol couldn’t keep the sadness from her face when she looked at Sam. Sam couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes for long and Dean kept grinding his teeth.

 

When it was time for Dean to go home, Sam watched as Dean gave him the same kiss goodbye that he gave their mother. The mom kiss, seriously? It jarred something in Sam, but he couldn’t get hold of it.

 

His first morning home, Sam went up to the barns and put Blue’s bridle in to take him out for a walk. As he put the tack over the horse’s head he laid his forehead against his equine. “What am I going to do Blue?” He rubbed the big creature’s face. “I can’t stand this, feeling like this, it’s not me. I’ve tried so hard to make us partners in all things all the time and now I can’t seem to let him in never mind do his macho fix it thing.” Sam chuckled as Blue nodded that big head, somehow agreeing with his master. “I don’t think I’ll be able to make him understand without telling him everything and I don’t know if I can burden him with that.” Sam led the horse around the paddock, talking to him, telling him the things he really should be telling Dean.


	29. Shutting Dean Out

When Sam returned from Blue’s work out, Steve was sitting with Carol and Dean in the kitchen of the big house. Steve rose and gave Sam a quick but sincere hug and spoke quietly in his ear. “How’re you feeling?”

 

“Better everyday.”

 

“And now for real?” He smiled. Sam just nodded because the real answer involved a lot of tears that Sam couldn’t hold if he spoke. “Whenever you’re ready.” Steve nodded back, his pledge to listen when Sam needed an ear.

 

“Do you have anything new?” Sam finally asked.

 

“We have the results back on the tire impressions, so we can start looking at the vehicles, but there’s a big list to go through. Just the Fords alone that fit the profile are driven by half the county. We’re going to start door to door on them but we have limited resources so it’s going to be slow.”

 

“Is there any hope?” Dean asked.

 

Steve looked from one to each of them. “If we could find a link to any one of them, something to compel the DNA would be a breakthrough.”

 

“Do we know it wasn’t Lucky?” Carol asked and squeezed Sam’s hand when the shudder of revulsion went through him.

 

“We have no proof it was or wasn’t. There’s nothing else you can remember Sam?” Steve hated to ask his friend to go back there, go through that day again.

 

After a long moment when they all knew what Sam was doing he looked up, eyes shiny with unshed tears. “Nothing I haven’t already told you. They were all shorter than me, hats, glasses, scarves, the chain, the ring and his voice . . . I’ll know that voice again if I ever hear it.”

 

“Wait a minute, chain?”

 

“Yea, one of them had a chain somewhere, wallet maybe.” Sam’s eyes widened at his own recollection.

 

“Was he the one with the ring?”

 

“No.”

 

“How do you know Sam?” Dean asked quietly.

 

“I heard the chain at a different time than when I felt the ring.” Dean really didn’t want to know where Sam felt the ring. “And neither of those things go with the voice.”

 

“Thanks Sam, that’s really good. From what you told us, that ring was pretty distinctive and while there are a lot of guys who wear wallet chains, if we can find the ring then we can look at the people around him.”

 

* * *

 

They heard Steve honk his horn in the yard and Carol knew who was coming in so she asked Dean to help her bring in some wood from the back yard. “Subtle Mom, real subtle. Who’s here?”

 

“It’s Diana.”

 

“So hiding me in the yard . . .”

 

“She’s here to help Sam with the . . .” No one could bring themselves to actually say it out loud.

 

“Again, I need to leave the room, why?”

 

“Dean, I told you that you would have to be gentle and patient and strong. You’re doing great on strong, but you need to work on patient and gentle. He’s trying very hard to hold on to his dignity Dean.” He looked up at her and her voice didn’t waver but there were tears rolling down her cheeks. “Half the village knows what happened to him out there. At the end of all this, he doesn’t need you to have the memory of all the mechanics of alternate plumbing.”

 

Dean almost chuckled at her turn of phrase and might have if it weren’t referring to Sam; his Sammy. He rubbed his hand across his forehead, hiding his eyes behind it for a moment before he roughly drew it down his face as if pulling the mask back in place.

 

“I’m going to work.” He said flatly. “Call me if he needs me.” He chuckled humorlessly; the sound of it sending a chill through Carol. “I’ll maybe hear from you in a week.” He turned on his heel and headed for the barns.

 

Carol called after him, but she knew he wouldn’t come. She looked between Dean’s retreating back and the house and didn’t realize she was shaking until the wood in her hand began rattling against what she already had in her arms. She was positively vibrating with rage. Two months? Even the six months since Sam came home. Six months of happiness was all this family got? How did that even seem possible? How could four people be so . . . fucked? Carol dropped to her knees and wept; wept for the son with the physical injuries and wept for the one without.

 

* * *

 

Diana showed Sam how he could do the procedure himself if there was an emergency, but promised that she would be back the next day.

 

“Can you stay a bit?” Sam asked quietly.

 

“Sure hun,” She always called him that and he smiled. “You know I will.” She took his hand in hers. “Did you want to talk or do you just want to sit here?”

 

He didn’t even answer her for a long time and then it all started to pour out. Not the actual attack, he wasn’t ready to get into that with anyone yet, but the Dean stuff. How he wanted to tell Dean that just having him there made Sam feel better, but that Sam could hardly stand to have Dean in the room. How he knew he still loved Dean more than anything but he couldn’t stand Dean’s hands on his skin. How he hardly felt worthy of being any part of Dean’s life. He talked and he cried and Diana rubbed his back and when he was finally done he looked at her.

 

“Can I say something now?” Sam nodded. “All of this is normal. But honey . . .” She paused as if not sure she should continue. “If you truly want to get better, you have to do two things.”

 

Sam swallowed hard. “What?”

 

“When you think about the attack, focus on the hate and the violence, not the . . . the sex acts they used against you.” She squeezed his hand. “If you make this about the hate, what it’s really about, you will be able to get past it and back to your normal.”

 

His chin quivered. There was an easy logic in what she said. “What’s the second thing?”

 

“Lean on Dean.” Sam’s chin went up. “I know you want to be big Sam Winchester and be all macho and take care of this yourself, but your boyfriend, no your husband is Dean Singer and I’m sorry son, but he can out macho just about anyone and if you don’t let him . . .” She trailed off, but Sam didn’t really need her to finish that statement. He knew what would happen if he didn’t let Dean back in and Sam had to admit he didn’t like that alternative.

 

“What would I do without you?” He hugged her ever thankful for his girls.

 

“You’re strong Sam, you do those things and you’ll be fine.” She rose to leave. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

Theoretically Dean was rearranging the hay bales in the barn to move them closer to the stalls, but since the stacks were now messier than when he started and blocking one of the stalls outright, it was easily apparent that he just needed to do something short of smashing things to burn off some energy. “That looks productive.” Sam’s baritone came out of the shadows of the door way.

 

“I guess I should have cut the wood for Carol.” Dean nodded quietly.

 

“Can we walk?”

 

Dean’s heart stopped, to full to beat. “Yea Sam.” It caught in his throat.

 

They started off down the lane and got about half a mile or better when Sam got pale and had to take a break. They hadn’t said anything and Dean didn’t know if the excuse for a break was to start a conversation or not and he didn’t really care. Just being with Sam, like this, was what he wanted so bad that he could take this for now. Conversation was just going to make it about other things.

 

“Did Mom tell you Diana came by?”

 

“Yea.”

 

“Did Mom tell you why?”

 

“Yea.”

 

“Do you understand why I can’t come home?”

 

Dean wanted to say no. Dean wanted to get up and demand that Sam come home where Dean could take care of him the way they’d promised. But instead, “Yea.” He agreed.

 

Sam kissed him then, slow and sensual, but too short, long enough Dean supposed on sore and broken lips. More than the mom kiss, for sure. “Thanks for being patient Dean.” Sam smiled. “I’m trying.”


	30. Tear Down The Wall

After two weeks the doctor advised Sam that he could get his reversal done anytime. After another week he did. Much to Dean’s disappointment Sam still didn’t move home. They were still walking together and hanging out but Sam still could only barely let Dean hold his hand and only for short periods, and sometimes even then, Dean could feel chills going through his lover, and not the good kind.

 

“Damn it Sam!” Dean was so frustrated that he was finished being sensitive. “It’s been over a month.”

 

“Dean, I’m trying . . . I just . . .”

 

“I know.” Dean sighed. The argument old and all too familiar. “You can’t let me touch you. I get . . .”

 

“No Dean,” Sam snapped. “I don’t think you do.”

 

“You need to let me finish." Sam was surprised by Dean's anger. "I wasn’t going to say that I understand because clearly I’ll never understand what you’ve been through.” Dean swallowed compulsively. “There aren’t too many people who can understand what you’ve been through. I get . . . that I’ll never get it. I get that you’ll never be able to make me understand how you feel, I get that you’ll never feel the same again. I get that you find it easier to retreat into the safety of your old self, shut off from everyone, but if you do that, and I can’t really blame you if you do, then you let them win.” Sam gaped at him. Dean wasn’t shy at all about the tears that ran unchecked down his face. Nor would he be at all apologetic about using Sam’s own words against him. “Sam, part of being partners is sharing everything. If you shut me out and don’t let me even try to help you, how do you expect us to keep growing?”

 

“What?” A new and different pain was written all over Sam’s face.

 

“Sammy.” Dean choked on the frozen chunk of emotions in his throat. “I waited over ten years for you . . . for you to open up . . . to come to me. I can’t stand by and watch you shut down again.” Dean turned to walk away, ignoring the plea from behind him. “If you have to go that way, then I can’t come with you.”

 

“Dean?” It was a small voice but when Dean didn’t turn back, stronger. “Dean!”

 

* * *

 

Dean was in his arm chair in front of the fire drinking his whiskey straight from the bottle. There was a glass beside him which he had started with but he had, by now, given up all pretense. He heard the door open behind him but he didn’t bother trying to come up with any enthusiasm. He got that Sam was a mess, but Dean wasn’t just tired of pushing to help, he was wrung out. What Sam didn’t get was how hard it was for Dean to be so powerless to help; so absolutely useless to his partner, his love. Dean wanted nothing more than to help Sam through this, but he couldn’t keep asking, Sam would have to come to him this time.

 

Sam came in quietly and without looking at Dean or a word either way, just folded himself onto the floor at Dean’s feet. “I came here to talk, but I need you to just listen. I can’t look at you because I don’t want to know that you’re looking at me.” His voice was so small and wavering, it was all Dean could do to hold his own line. “I know I’m a mess. I just called a doctor in town and I’m going to see her tomorrow and I hope you’ll come with me, but if you don’t want to or can’t, Carol said she would.” Dean wanted to reach out for Sam but didn’t think he could stand it if he flinched away again. “Dean, I was raped by five men.” Dean gasped. Knowing it had happened was bad enough, but hearing it out loud was even worse. “Five guys tore me up inside so bad I had to shit in a bag for three weeks. I share my story with prison inmates. You’ve got to see how that does something to your head.” He was starting to shake a little. “I know that you love me and I love you so much and I want you to touch me but there’s so much in there that’s telling me that I’m ruined, that they’ve ruined me and I’ll never be good enough for you again. I know you’re going to say it’s not true and on some level, I know it’s not true, but that’s how I feel. They used me, tore me up and tossed me on the side of the road Dean and it is really hard not to feel like trash.”

 

Dean reached out then and twisted a curl of Sam’s hair off his ear, tucking it behind and Sam didn’t flinch. A gesture so small, so delicate that Dean hardly felt capable of it . . . but Sam didn’t flinch. Small gestures, Dean thought, how am I going to do that? “Can I talk now?” Sam only nodded. “I’ll take you to the doctor, I’ll talk to her too if it will help. But I mean it honey; you have to come back to me.” Sam grazed his cheek over Dean’s knuckles. “I get that this . . . attack has taken a lot from you and I know that nothing I ever say or do can bring that back, but if it changes what we have and who we are to each other, then I’ve lost everything.”

 

Sam tentatively turned his damp eyes to Dean only to watch the quiet tears cover his cheeks. Sam pulled himself to his knees in front of Dean and took his love’s face in his hands, his thumbs wiping those tears away. “I’m sorry.”

 

“No Sammy,” Dean snapped a bit harshly taking Sam’s hands in his. “Don’t you apologize. You haven’t done anything that you need to be sorry for.”

 

“But Dean, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to . . . you know . . .”

 

“Sam, are you talking about the sex?” Sam gave a little shrug and looked away. “My God Sam, is that what you’ve been torturing yourself with?” Sam looked back, that was not the reaction he had expected. “Did you forget that I was in love with you ten years before you ever had sex with me?” Dean’s eyes got sad and he looked away from Sam.

 

“Dean?” Sam called quietly. “Dean, what’s wrong?”

 

“It’s never been about sex Sam.” Dean smiled, still sadly. “Sex is easy to find.” He chuckled. “Maybe not mind blowing, star gazing sex, but . . . you know.” Sam smiled a little self consciously and blushed. “It’s our intimacy that I miss Sammy. I miss waking up in the morning and just staring at you, I miss cooking your breakfast in the morning; I miss you cooking my supper at night.” Dean swallowed and watched Sam’s tears through his own. “I miss evenings that we just sit here just like this when I’m reading the paper and you’re reading your reports or some egghead book and I just play with your hair. I miss Sundays snuggled in bed watching the game or Nascar and fighting over the remote.”

 

Sam got up from his spot on the floor. He was headed to the front of the cottage, could be the door; could be the stairs. Dean closed his eyes when he asked the question. “Where are you going?”

 

Did Sam just snicker? Dean opened his eyes and Sam stood with his foot on the bottom stair. “I’m going to get the remote.”

 

* * *

 

They lay together on their acre of king sized bed about three feet apart, propped up on elbows, just looking at each other. The fire was dying down, but still held enough red and orange to dance of the permanent gold of Dean’s skin. Sam was cooking up a winter game to replace stargazing that would involve connecting Dean’s freckles with his tongue. It perhaps wasn’t until that moment that Sam realized that he could still be a lover to Dean, that he had maybe done what Diana had told him to and separated the attack from the act. Right now he wanted nothing more than to get his mouth on Dean . . . anywhere.

 

Dean couldn’t believe the change in Sammy and was having a hard time keeping it out of his face. During his recovery, Sam had lost weight and muscle tone and he was pale, his skin somehow having lost the summer’s glow. The new scars were there, not so much ugly as an ugly reminder, the long surgical one across his abdomen and the smaller one on his side. Dean couldn’t contain his emotions and unbidden a tear slid down his nose.

 

“Dean, what is it?”

 

“I’m sorry Sammy, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry anymore.”

 

Sam stroked Dean’s cheek with his free hand and smiled his Sammy smile. “What is it?”

 

“I can’t believe you would think you could ever be anything but beautiful to me.”

 

Sam’s head dropped a bit. “I can’t . . . no, I don’t want to make you understand, baby. I’m pretty sure before I’m better . . . I mean truly better, you’ll know a lot more about it than I really want you to know anyway.” He dropped his head again so those bangs would completely cover his eyes. “Well these days there’s my logical brain and my emotional brain and one knows things which are completely opposite to what the other one is feeling.” He flipped his bang back and smiled at Dean, all teeth and that little pink tongue. “Right now, my logical brain is taking a break and the other one has moved south.”

 

Dean looked down at Sam’s beautiful cock, dancing ever higher for him and he smiled. Thank God they didn’t touch that. Dean breached the space between them and reached out for it, his touch so gentle and light that gooseflesh popped up on Sam’s arms. Sam keened a little and fell back on the mattress and Dean accepted the invitation. Dean was on him with lips and tongue and teeth, a lot less teeth than usual, but he was still Dean after all, there were signature moves that needed to be worked in.

 

Sam lay back and let the love wash over him. He knew that Dean loved him, could fell it, hear it, smell it coming from Dean, but somehow he had lost sight of that. Sam looked down as Dean licked and kissed across his chest and his heart swelled. Dean was right, if he stopped right here, Sam could be happy. It was the affection that had been missing, simple closeness and affection.

 

Dean moved lower, ever lower, looking up every so often to gauge Sam’s reaction, ready to stop anytime Sam asked short of his master plan. His lips ghosted over Sam’s beautiful prick and a lollipop lick straight up the bottom, just to keep it interesting. Dean stroked and massaged Sam’s legs until they were bent up and out of the way before Sam knew where he was going. “Dean?!” He called, anxiety starting to break in.

 

“Shhh Sammy. I’m never going to hurt you.”

 

Dean kept rubbing Sam’s leg as he licked and loved his balls. The bruised one still a bit sensitive and discolored but Dean stayed slow and gentle. He buried his nose deep in Sam’s perineum and Sam could hear him drawing in scent. (Sam had to smile at that; Dean always loved to do that.) Dean looked at his prize, his Sammy’s sweet pucker and a gasp escaped him. Scars here too. Jagged and rough, tissues never meant to be torn, stitched together in haste to stop . . . ‘get it together Dean.’ He hears in his own head. He looks again, a bit better this time. His calloused hands never stop stroking Sam’s strong legs as he plants kisses on each scar, one for each stitch. Sam’s hips start bucking above him, nervous or turned on, Dean can’t tell; can’t stop now anyway. Dean licks each scar in turn; they’re all still a bit raw and sensitive and may be for a long time. He can hear Sam mewling above him. He scrambled up to Sam and laid sweet kisses all over his face. “What is it Sammy?” Dean asked so concerned.

 

“How can you love . . ?” He couldn’t even finish the question.

 

“Because it’s all part of you now Sam.” Dean kissed him. “And I love all of you.”

 

Sam couldn’t let go of Dean now and just kept kissing anything and everything he could get his lips on. “How could I have ever lost faith?”

 

They laced their hands together in a now familiar position and grasped their two cocks between them setting up a rhythm that brought a too quick but satisfying result for them both.

 

They loved on through the night and Dean finally fell asleep with Sammy on his chest and a satisfied sigh on his lips.

 

* * *

 

Sam went and got his stuff from his parent’s house the next morning. Just clothes and books, but it was alarming how much he had accumulated at their house. It was around a week after that they were having a quiet evening with a bottle of Chivas when Dean left the room only to come back a moment later to sit in front of Sam looking nervous.

 

“Sam, I don’t want to hide anymore.” Dean took Sam’s hands in his. “We tried to play the game their way, to play it safe and you got hurt anyway.”

 

“Dean, what are you getting at?”

 

“I love you Sam, I always have and I always will and I’m tired of not letting everyone know it.” He pulled the tiny box from behind him and placed it in front of Sam.

 

“Dean?” Sam’s eyes darted from Dean’s face to the box and back.

 

“Open it Sammy.” Dean smiled as his voice cracked. “Please.”

 

The box held two rings, identical in style: platinum bands each with a lariat pattern of colored gold around the center, one yellow, one rose. “That one’s yours.” Dean indicated the rose gold one. “Read the inscription.”

 

Sam picked up the ring and spun it in his fingers reading aloud. “Bound to you in love, Dean.”

 

Dean took the ring back from Sam’s shaking hands and placed it on his left hand. We’ll never have a ceremony here, but I don’t need anything but this to tell everyone that you’re mine and I’m yours.”

 

“Dean I . . .”

 

“If you’re going to break my heart Sam, do it tomorrow, just wear it for me tonight.”

 

“Will you shut up?” Sam grabbed Dean’s face in his hands covering him with kisses. “Yes Dean.” Finally the tears they shared were happy again. “A yes for every star in the sky, Baby.”


	31. Steve & Olivia

Steve Randall should have taken himself out of this situation long before he got himself in anywhere near this deep. He sat in his office watching Dave flirt with Mandy through the glass walls of his office, thinking that because the boss was on a conference call he could get away with it. Steve threw a pencil at the window and gave Dave the universal get back to work signal.

 

“Is everything all right Steve?” Dr. Gary Barnard asked from Dallas. Steve had been listening to them confer so hadn’t thought they were really paying attention to him.

 

“Yea, fine Gary.” He rubbed a hand roughly across weary eyes. “Just disciplining my staff.” Steve was twenty seven and felt like seventy. He hated to be the one to keep asking Sam the awful questions just to hear the horrible answers. Once a week they got together in the office to go over it again just to see if Sam remembered something different. At least twice a week they got together over beers to talk about anything else. “So what can we do for him guys?”

 

“Well,” The answer was coming from Dr. William Parker in Houston. “There aren’t a lot of cases to go on. There aren’t a lot of men who go through such a thing and report it let alone seek counseling for it.”

 

“The thing is, guys, we’re narrowing down the suspect field to only half the county instead of the whole county. Not great. I want these bastards in jail, hell, I want these bastards in the ground, but in order to find them I’m going to have to take Sam out among them. I need him strong.” Steve could feel the hesitation down the lines.

 

“Would he come to Dallas?” Gary asked.

 

“I don’t know if he would ongoing. I can try and insist for a consult.”

 

“Wait a minute.” The others could hear the shuffling of papers. “I thought so. Bill, Olivia’s right there in the town next over.”

 

“Really. That could work.”

 

“Olivia?” Steve asked.

 

“Dr. Olivia Sinclair. She was at the top of our class at Columbia.”

 

“And she practices here?” Steve asked, a little skeptical.

 

“She’s very liberal; she won’t have any issues with his lifestyle.” Bill supplied. “Quite the opposite, actually. It is part of the reason she’s here. She was initially going to specialize with at risk youth, but she saw the aftermath of some hate crimes and found that she couldn’t hold her objectivity.”

 

“Don’t we want objective.” Steve asked.

 

“I don’t think so.” Gary tried. “I think if you want Sam to be able to stand up to his attackers sooner rather than later, he’s going to need everyone on his side. Given what you’ve told us about Sam, and correct me if you need to Bill, but from what you’ve said about how he was as a child and his business dealings, his logical brain can compartmentalize this whole chapter and put it away. Sam basically just needs to dump it out to fill back up on the good that Dean brought out in him. He may yet tell you more about the episode; but he clearly won’t share it with Dean because that would taint his pool of light.” Steve chuckled out loud.

 

“What?” Bill asked.

 

“I’d like to see you call Dean Singer a pool of light, that’s all.”

 

* * *

 

Dr. Olivia Sinclair was the picture of the Freudian psychiatrist with her loose dark curls pulled up in a bun on top of her head, small wire framed glasses low on her nose, white lab coat and a notepad. Sam laughed at Dean’s barely audible, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

 

She was everything Sam had expected, but also a lot more. She was the sounding board that Sam needed but as their time wore on she became his cheerleader and corner man all rolled into one. She began to feel, it seemed to Sam, the attack almost as personally as he or any of his family did. She had only had Dean in on the first session and then one session on his own so that she could get to know him and where he was. Then as Sam talked and discussed things with her, she would point out things that he needed to tell Dean or Steve or his parents. Sam would go tell Dean or Steve or his parents and it was always the perfect thing at the right time.

 

Dr. Olivia Sinclair was good.

 

Sam talked to her on the phone for about an hour everyday, though he was free to call her whenever he thought of something or needed to talk. When Dean came home from his day, they discussed Sam’s feelings or revelations if he needed while Sam made dinner so that their meal and evenings were clear. Olivia had coached them early on not to have any of this seep too far into their overall lives, limiting the time and energy spent on possibly upsetting things to inhibit their social time because it was normalcy that they were trying to get back.

 

* * *

 

By the beginning of November Sam was starting to get his head together, it was time to get the rest of his stuff together. He started back to working on the offices and working out a bit, but he was still physically weak so only managed about three hours a day. Since finding Dr. Sinclair had started to really improve his outlook, the only thing that seemed to make him sad anymore was that he couldn’t really ride yet. He would go up to the barn, saddle Blue up, and he could ride him at a walk to the field where he would have to just let him out to gallop on his own. Every day when Sam walked into the stable Blue would whinny and toss his big head around making Sam laugh at how hard it was to get the tack on. When Sam had to keep the reins pulled so Blue didn’t run, the big equine would drop his head, pouting. Dean found Sam standing at the fence one sunny afternoon with his head propped on his folded hands. Dean slid from Chempala’s back and set him out in the field to watch them run together. He walked over, sliding his arms around Sam’s still too thin waist and leaning down across the mile long stretch of his lover’s spine. “Hey Sammy.”

 

“Hey.” Sam sighed.

 

“What’s wrong Baby?”

 

“I really wish you or Dad would take him out and ride him. He seems so miserable.”

 

“He is a bit sad I think, but he won’t let John or me up. I thought I told you that.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Sorry sweetheart, you got a Sammy only horse there.”

 

Sam groaned. “Great.”

 

Dean rubbed a hand down the curve of Sam’s ass. “Still too sensitive?” Dean asked looking out at the horses.

 

“Yes Dean.” Sam stood tall away from Dean’s hand.

 

“Sam, I’m not asking that.” Dean snapped. “I’m trying to figure out if it’s medically inadvisable or if it’s just discomfort.”

 

“What?”

 

“What I’m saying is that if we’re talking about things,” Dean fidgeted, his eyes rolling uncomfortably. “Coming apart, then I’m putting my foot down, but if it’s just sensitive we pad your saddle.”

 

Sam chuckled with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry Dean, I thought . . .”

 

“You have to tell me Sam when or even if you ever want to go back there.” Dean smiled at him. “We’re never going anywhere you don’t want to go again.”


	32. Taking Back What's Ours

The biggest outward change for Sam was that he never went anywhere alone anymore. Sam somehow felt awkward having his Dad take him places so if Dean couldn’t be available he had Carol or Belle with him.

 

But mostly Dean went anywhere Sam needed him to be. Sam didn’t want Dean to suddenly do the chores for him; he just needed the security of having Dean watching out for him. He didn’t think forever, but for now. It was hard enough driving out of the ranch and passing by Binder’s Road but he couldn’t imagine doing it alone. Dean always drove now and every time there was a physical shudder through Sam that Dean could see.

 

They were returning from town one day and Dean drove on past the ranch house, offices, their house, the stables. Sam looked at Dean every time they passed the next destination by. He waited another long moment for Dean to tell him where they were going but Dean didn’t seem forthcoming. “Dean, do you know where we’re going?”

 

“Yea.”

 

Sam let it lay. He sat in the passenger seat fidgeting a little. He hadn’t really enjoyed this truck since . . . and then it occurred to Sam what Dean’s plan might be.

 

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

 

“I just heard the wheels in your head so I think you might have figured it out.”

 

“Dean you can’t fix everything you know.”

 

Dean finally picked a spot at the top of his rise, where he usually sat with Chempala. He stepped out of the truck and rounded the front to go and open Sam’s door. He held out his hand for Sam to come down. “Chivalry is not dead.” Sam said dryly as he let Dean lead him out of the truck. Dean shut the door and then gently leaned Sam up against the truck with soft kisses to his neck. Sam’s eyes rolled and then fluttered shut as he reveled in the sensations. “Dean.” He started tentatively.

 

“No, listen to me.” Dean silenced the protest with a quick kiss. “We have lost so much and we need to take back what’s ours. I’m not trying to be a dick here, but either we need to christen this baby and make it ours or we need to trade it in on something else, but I can’t stand to see that revolted look on your face anymore.”

 

Sam looked down at him for a long moment. “Well you can definitely be a dick.” Dean smiled; sarcastically, if that was possible. “You really think making a good memory all over the upholstery is going to cheer me up.” Sam didn’t smile, but Dean could tell when he was being played.

 

“Well in an effort to save our seventy thousand dollar pimp mobile, I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

 

Again Sam let the silence hang but then pulled Dean roughly to him, their mutual arousal working against each other. He took Dean’s mouth for his own, all tongues and teeth and wet heat as he reached a hand into Dean’s jeans pushing the button on the remote. The hatch rose slowly on its hydraulics the silent answer to the invitation. “Why don’t you step into my parlor and we’ll discuss it.”

 

* * *

 

“How certain were you that I was going to go along with your plan?” Sam asked when they rounded the back of the SUV, Dean plastered up against his back. Dean had laid the sheepskins, a row of fat pillows and the feather duvet out in the back of the truck. Sam pushed himself up to a seat on the tail gate.

 

“I’m pretty persuasive.” Dean stood between Sam’s knees and rubbed his thighs dropping his eyes from his lover’s. “Sam, I never thought I could fix everything. I wasn’t even sure that I could fix anything, but I can damn sure try to fix this.”

 

Sam took Dean’s chin in his hand, lifting his face to meet his eyes. “Don’t you know how much you fix just by being here every day; just by not giving up on me?”

 

“Baby, you know I’d never give up on you.”

 

“So that ultimatum a few weeks ago? You weren’t going to follow through with that?” Sam smiled at eyes that were again avoiding him.

 

“Let’s just say I’m pretty glad it worked and you didn’t test me on that.” Dean nuzzled his head in under Sam’s chin. “You don’t know how hard it is to come up on that wall and not be able to get around it. You make it so hard.”

 

Sam was unapologetic. “There’s just so much that I needed to do in here by myself before I could let you back in.” Sam kissed him, innocent at first and then his tongue snaked out for that fat bottom lip asking for passage. “I know you want to say it would have been okay, but just trust me; it wasn’t.” He swooped in for another kiss, deeper this time. Dean’s eyes were glassing over just a bit, signaling that he was just about done with conversation. “I don’t want to fight with you, I’m pretty sure that’s the last thing I want right now.” He took Dean’s hand and placed it on his waiting cock and gave Dean the racy Sammy smile. “Right now, I want you to fix this.”

 

“Yea baby?” Dean played along.

 

“Yea.”

 

Dean’s hands made fast work of the buckle on Sam’s jeans and he quickly pulled him free of the confines of his jeans. He moaned at the head so that pre-come moistened his lips and Sam moaned back. Sam scooted up the length of the truck to lean against those pillows. Dean followed, but at a slightly slower pace, crawling towards Sam in an almost predatory fashion. He knew it was okay as the lust in Sam’s smile mirrored his own. Dean pounced the last distance and Sam gasped a little in surprise but laughed nervously as by this time his interest was entirely peaked.

 

As he kissed and licked and nipped at Sam’s torso on his way down, Dean felt like he deserved a freaking medal sometimes. The restraint he had to keep reminding himself of, was probably going to kill him one of these days, but he knew he had to be gentle with Sam. He was always afraid that things would get a bit too rough and something would click in Sam’s head to make things worse. Dean just kept thinking about how high and thick that wall could get and it helped make sure that he stayed on the right side of the line. But then Dean licked up the underside of his cock and Sam made those noises and Dean was afraid his resolve would break. Worse still was when he kissed and licked and loved over those horrible scars that drew those contented sighs from him; that made Sam so happy and Dean so angry. Dean felt them again, the angry tears, that anyone should have done anything so terrible to such a beautiful creature, to his beautiful boy. His resolve to fix what he could surged through him and his tongue reached out tentatively for Sam’s pretty pucker. It felt so wrong, the scars rough, hard but then Sam moaned pleasurably and it felt so right. Dean’s whole purpose was to bring Sam pleasure again here in his arms and damn it if Dean Singer didn’t rise to any challenge.

 

* * *

 

Sam reveled in watching Dean open his belt, his tongue sneaking out to wet that bottom lip, the movement so involuntary that even if Dean knew how sexy it was, Sam was fairly certain that he couldn’t replicate it. Then those lips hummed against his cock and Sam’s head dropped back with a sigh. Christening the truck was one thing, but Sam knew that he didn’t just want head on the tailgate like a slutty cheerleader. He started scooting back to the pillows and then he watched as Dean crawled in after him, the look in his lover’s eyes smoldering like the embers of a thousand fires and he smiled with the anticipation. He let out an involuntary gasp when Dean closed the last gap so quickly, but then Dean was in his space, their space, and they kissed again, so full of everything they were to each other.

 

Dean was kissing his chest, nipping a little with a kiss or a lick to cool the bit of burn, Dean’s trademark, Sam called it. Sam rubbed a hand absently through Dean’s short hair and just tried to keep the moment. It was hard for Sam these days, to just let go, to just stay with the feelings and not think too much, not analyze, but his brain really didn’t want to shut off. His absent mind had let him get hurt and now seemed determined to over think every moment. He didn’t think he would ever be able to tell Dean, show him or make him understand what his love and patience over the last few months had meant to Sam, had meant to his recovery. Sam knew he wasn’t completely cured, knew that there would always be the possibility that something, anything could take him back to that day, maybe not for years, maybe never. But Dean brought him back to himself and made him remember what was good and pure and beautiful in life and why he needed to come back to it. Dean’s lips and tongue traced over the sensitive reminders and brought tears to Sam’s eyes. He knew Dean couldn’t possibly find those scars sexy, but made them part of their love making as a sign of acceptance and Sam would never be able to show Dean how important that was. Above all, Sam’s greatest fear had been that Dean wouldn’t be able to accept those reminders but one more time Dean rose above anything Sam could have wished to be his savior.

 

Then there was hot, wet pressure at Sam’s opening and the lights started firing behind Sam’s eyes. The deadened spots where nerves were sacrificed seemed to only intensify the nerves next to them. Sam moaned low in his throat and his hips rose up of their own volition and his hand reached compulsively into Dean’s hair, a sign of encouragement. Dean’s tongue slid in and out and around and Sam’s head rolled on the pillows and his hand ripped fur from the sheepskins beneath them. “Oh Dean.” He sighed.

 

“That good baby?”

 

“Mmmm, yea.”

 

“More?”

 

“Mmmm, yea.”

 

Dean slicked up his index finger and pushed with slow and steady pressure around the circle, massaging as much as entering. Sam was writhing and humming his way through it. There was a different sensation, he knew he wasn’t ready for any more, but he was putty for Dean right now.

 

“Baby?”

 

“Mmmm. Cm’ere.” Sam moaned, sliding beyond proper speech.

 

Dean moved up the back of the truck to face Sam. “Yea Baby.”

 

Sam took Dean’s face in his big hands and kissed him deeply, his tongue reaching, playing, searching. “Can I fuck you now?”

 

“Wow!” Dean was never going to tire of that question. “You’re still a sweet talker that’s for sure.” Dean handed Sam the ever present tube and rose up on his knees giving Sam access to his ass while he dropped his throat over Sam’s cock. It didn’t take long for Sam to prepare Dean he was so willing and waiting. Before long he dropped Sam’s cock and repositioned. Sam cried out involuntarily. “Are you sure?”

 

“Oh yea. No worries.” Sam smiled. “Mount up Cowboy.”

 

“Never going to live that one down, am I?” Dean started to move down on Sam.

 

“Probably not.” He gasped.

 

“Serves you right.” Dean smiled as he lay across Sam to kiss those lips. Dean began a rocking motion to ease himself onto Sam while Sam snaked those beautiful long fingers in between them to grasp Dean’s beautiful prick. He applied no pressure but rubbed his thumb across the sensitive head, teasing Dean until he was ready. Dean reached bottom and sat back swiveling his hips down as Sam took his first tentative strokes. Dean let Sam set the rhythm and began rocking along with the steady pressure of Sam’s hand on his dick.

 

The truck began rocking on its awesome suspension better than the springs in their bed, Sam smiled. They grunted and moaned, screamed and called each other’s names. “Dean.” Sam called. “I’m gonna . . .”

 

“Yea, come with me baby.”

 

Sam quickened Dean’s pace to bring them off at the same time and at the first pulse of Dean’s cock between them he pushed up as far as he could spilling his seed deep inside Dean. Dean fell down across Sam’s chest and Sam rubbed his back compulsively through all their shudders, pulling the duvet over them. After a few moments of quiet, Sam started to chuckle down in his belly.

 

“What?” Dean asked.

 

“I’d say that was worth seventy grand.”


	33. Only As Strong As The Foundations

“You can’t ask him that.” Dave protested.

 

“It’s all we have left.” Steve’s head dropped to his chest. “Jesus, Dave, he’s become my best friend, do you really think I want to ask this . . . of anyone?”

 

“Steve, I just think it’s too much. What if I . . ?”

 

“It’s your career man.”

 

“Fuck my career. They’re my friends too. You’re asking me to stand by and watch.”

 

“I’m asking you to stand by and be objective.”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Look man, you’re a good cop, use your brains and if you can come up with something else, I’ll do it. But we’re screwed here. There’s nothing left.”

 

Dave sighed but dropped his head into a nod. “I’ll think about it.”

 

* * *

 

“No, I understand what you’re asking Steve and I’m saying I don’t know.” They stood in her office nearly toe to toe, voices rising.

 

“Listen Doc, you’re the one who told me this is the last big hurdle. I don’t think you understand what it’s going to take to get over that one.”

 

“Oh, I understand all right, but it’s only been two months. You’re asking a lot here.”

 

“Well then, how soon?”

 

“You know I’m never going to be able to give you that answer.”

 

“Then why did you call me in here?”

 

“I need to know that you’re okay.”

 

“Me?” He chuckled. “You want to shrink me now?”

 

“Sheriff, I think you know now that you should have let this case go to Dallas PD.”

 

“Yea, how much time would they give it?”

 

“How much time have you given to it?”

 

“Diana called you?”

 

“Let’s just say your friends are worried about you.”

 

“Dave?” He tried again.

 

“Dean.” She finally admitted. “He appreciates everything, but they all know you’re not sleeping, courtesy of your wife; snapping at your co-workers and not getting much of any other work done, courtesy of Dave; and Dean feels that you’re beating yourself up way more than you should.” She cleared her throat. “He feels that you’re blaming yourself.”

 

Steve’s jaw worked furiously as he chewed back any number of angry words. He was going to say ‘I’m fine,’ but what came out was tiny and shattered. “You didn’t see him the way I found him.”

 

Olivia didn’t speak, didn’t offer a chair, didn’t move. Steve took a half step back really only changing his angle so he wasn’t completely in her face anymore.

 

“You know what he looks like, big strong Sam. We used to play ball, you know?” She nodded. “He could nail any pitch out of the park and he could run the bases faster than any of us and make it look like a jog.” Steve didn’t even try to hide the tears that snuck down his cheeks. “When I rolled up on the scene, not even out of the car yet and I knew, I just knew it was going to be bad.” He sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his hand, simultaneously looking years older and younger than his thirty. “He looked so small.” He choked on the word. “Small and broken. I’m a county Sheriff; I’ve never seen that much blood in one place in my life.”

 

“It must have been horrible.” She reached out and rubbed his arm.

 

“Horrible just doesn’t even get there.” Then his face changed, angry. “And then I saw all the . . . stuff they left all over him. I knew we weren’t going to have them; knew this was going to be a hard road, but I don’t think I knew how it was going to bring us together.”

 

“It usually drives men away.” She confirmed.

 

“Right now I would die for that kid and I can’t even do that.”

 

“But to do this Steve?” She looked at him kindly. “It may make things worse.”

 

“Then give me an answer.” He pleaded desperately.

 

“I really wish I could.” She heaved a heavy sigh. “The holidays are notoriously difficult for anyone who has undergone a trauma. Wait til the new year.” Steve gave two curt nods and turned to leave. “Any time you need to talk Steve, free of charge, off the books, no one needs to know.”

 

He nodded again as the door closed behind him.

 

* * *

 

Carol fell easily into her role as Lady of the Manor, so to speak and was on a variety of committees in the village. She organized the children’s Christmas party for after the parade, arranged dinner for the senior citizens who would be alone, donated time to the hospital fund raiser. All this on top of caring for the household, (she wouldn’t have a housekeeper); she was a busy woman.

 

But with everything she had going on; Carol always found time for Sam.

 

It had started when he was staying in the main house after he got home from the hospital and she had taken his lunch up to him. Most days he didn’t eat much but she would recline across the foot of his bed to make sure he ate something and listen to him talk about anything and nothing or they would read quietly together or cry together. Every day. At the beginning, when it was really bad, sometimes all day, but by the end, about an hour, a lunch hour and it had become almost sacred to them.

 

If pressed, Carol would have to admit that it was her best and worst hour of the day. It filled her up that Sam had finally made her this part of his life, that he let her fill that place she had always tried to. But the rest of the day she kept herself too busy to think of how he’d changed; how the attack had changed him. She often found herself in tears after Sam left or when she was driving away. Even if they’d spent the hour laughing about John or Dean or some fool woman at the church or whatever, she would weep because no matter how much better he got, there was still something fundamental missing in Sam that she wasn’t sure any of them would ever see again.

 

* * *

 

John watched Sam saddle and mount that massive horse and half grumbled about the feed bill with a smile on his face. He stood in the shadows of the barn’s back door and watched as he found himself doing more and more often. Once Dean had his saddle padded up and extra cushion underneath it Sam had got right back on the horse and both members of the team were better for it. Sam’s color was finally coming back to a healthy glow and damned if that horse hadn’t been moping.

 

Perhaps more than anyone, John had the most trouble dealing with Sam in the day to day. He was filled with so much rage that he couldn’t find an outlet for. He couldn’t tell Carol, she was so happy being his mom that John couldn’t burden her with his feelings. He thought about going to see that doctor that Sam was going to, but what he really wanted to do was to break something, punch someone, do something.

 

John had always been physical, not very talky; it was how he and Dean got along so well, that similarity in personality. He still pitched his own hay, rode his own roundup, branded his own cattle, ran his own ranch. All right, well the boys ran the ranch, but that’s why a man has sons isn’t it. Someone had tried very desperately to break his boy and for what? He was different. He was the kind of different you don’t like. Every Sunday John wanted to go to the front of that church and call out “All of you Christians here. Who knows the people responsible for what happened to Sam?” or the feed store and ask “Which one of you bastards hurt my boy?”

 

Worst of all, John felt that he had failed Sam. Felt that he was failing him now. A voice in his head told him to go saddle a horse and ride out with Sam, but what would he say? What could he say?

 

 

Little did John know that Sam would have said nothing and been over the moon.


	34. Christmas Wedding Bells

Carol did not marry John Winchester for money. He had always been more than generous to her; she had long had control of most of the finances and he had never questioned how she spent his money. He thought today maybe he might.

 

From the road, the only thing Carol was missing was a snow machine. The main house was a typical ranch with five steps up to a giant wrap around porch. The rail was plain with a post every six feet and evergreen everywhere. Western Red Cedar wreaths shipped from Oregon hung in every window. Thick swags with huge red velvet bows hung from post to post on the banister.

 

“What the hell?” John looked at his son.

 

“Don’t ask me, I haven’t been allowed in the house all day.”

 

“Where’s Dean?”

 

“He said he had something to finish up at the barn but he should be along shortly.”

 

“I hate surprises.” John grumbled, but had no idea what he was in for.

 

From the front door you walked into the great room which consisted of a den-ish area to the left with the big screen TV and bar, a more formal seating arrangement to the right, but mostly open space down the center with a vaulted ceiling through to the second storey. At the center about half way to the back of the house was the huge stone double sided fireplace and behind that the workaday kitchen to the left and formal dining to the right. Above this was the balcony to the upstairs bedrooms.

 

When Sam and John came through that door Sam’s breath hitched and he was pretty sure John just stopped breathing all together. There was a fourteen foot Blue Spruce tree, shipped directly from Colorado, blocking them from the fireplace. The tree was dressed all in thick gold ribbon and jewel toned balls of various glass finishes. It was lit with so many tiny lights that Sam smiled; glad the girls hadn’t asked him to look for a missing bulb. There were evergreen swags here across the upstairs rail as well twined with lights and gold, scarlet, emerald and violet velvet ribbons.

 

When John finally found his voice Sam laughed. “What has this cost me?”

 

“We can throw together a cocktail party or two and write it all off if you want.” Sam suggested.

 

John chuckled as he noticed his bride come out of their bedroom, her face lighting up at the sight of them. “It’s our first Christmas as a family Sam.” He beamed back at her. “I can’t take any of that away from her.”

 

Sam watched his father, watched the joy that swelled in him and before he knew it he smiled and it was out. “I love you Dad.”

 

John looked over at Sam. “As I always loved you boy.” Sam smiled a little. “I never told you that enough; should have told you everyday.”

 

“It’s okay Dad, I know it couldn’t have been easy.”

 

John looked back at Carol but continued talking to Sam. “Why didn’t we just let people help us?”

 

“Because you’re a stubborn bastard.” John looked back at Sam, but he was smiling warmly. “And I am nothing if not your son.”

 

John smiled. “You are that.”

 

“Well what do you guys think?”

 

Sam took her two hands in his and kissed her cheek. “It's perfect, but I think you girls are going to be too tired to dance tonight.”

 

“Dancing?” John asked. “I thought it was just dinner.”

 

Carol and Sam exchanged a look, hers accusing, his bashful. “Sam forgot to tell you.”

 

“Tell me what?”

 

“We kind of wanted it to be a surprise, but now it seems like you’re the only one who doesn’t know.”

 

“Tell me what?” John repeated.

 

* * *

 

There was no priest, no minister, no justice of the peace but there was Sam and there was Dean. On the dining chairs, (dressed in white muslin with bows of all that jewel tone velvet ribbon), their parents and dearest friends, who had helped get them through the last three horrible months, smiled and waited as the two young men made their way to stand in front of the magnificent tree. They wrote vows of their own that they had not even shared with each other.

 

Dean took Sam’s hands in his and began quietly. “Sam, my love, I stand with you here among our friends and family, to promise that I will be your partner in all ways through all the days between now and forever. I pledge that nothing will ever come between us again. I will be your protector, your security . . . your support,” Dean’s voice cracked just a little but Sam squeezed his hand and smiled. “And your soft place to fall. I need you in my life like breath and water and stars.” He shot Sam a coy smile that made Sam flush a little. “I never felt completely whole until you came back to be part of me. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fully show you how much you have meant to me, but I do intend to try.”

 

Sam could hear Belle and Mandy sniffling quietly behind him and could see Carol dabbing her eyes and assessed the lump in his own throat. How, he thought, did I get stuck going second. “Dean, my dearest love, you have already guided me through the worst time in my life and you have been all of my best times. I promise to love you until all the stars burn out in the night skies.” He winked at Dean, he doubted anyone would notice. “Even before I knew why, you were my anchor and now I know that it’s because you are the rest of my soul. You have become the perfect partner to me in every way and I will spend the rest of my life trying to be anything, for my everything.

 

Dean’s eyes went round as saucers. “Sam you already are.” Dean took Sam’s face in his hands, both of them smiling through veils of tears. Sam and Dean glanced around the room. It was one thing to ask your friends to accept what they didn’t have to see, quite another to ask them to watch it. Dean looked at Jeremiah, Sam at Steve, Jeremiah just nodded but Steve smiled. “What do you think we’ve been fighting for?”

 

That did it, the tears that Sam had so successfully held back were flowing down his cheeks and he looked back at Dean. “Well are you going to kiss me or what?” Dean laid a sweet sensual kiss on Sam’s lips and used a thumb to wipe away some of those tears. “No more tears, baby.” He said too quietly for the audience. They placed their rings on each other’s fingers and then kissed again before their audience fell upon them.

 

There was more hugging and kissing and back slapping and finally John interrupted. “Am I the only one who came here to eat?”

 

While the girls went to the kitchen to start serving out dinner, Steve, Dave and Jer moved the chairs back to the dining table and John held his boys back. There were tears in the older man’s eyes and Dean wondered if he was ever going to speak to anyone with dry eyes ever again.

 

“Before tonight I didn’t think that I could be any happier for you boys that you’ve found each other.” He started, actually taking one of their hands in his. “If you had asked me two years ago if I would be okay with this, I doubt I would have said yes, but now, I can’t imagine anything else.” He swallowed hard. “The way you support each other and hold each other together and love each other . . . some people search their whole lives and never find that. How could I question that?”

 

Sam seemed beyond words and Dean was plagued by those tears he hated so much but he managed to speak. “Thanks John. That means everything to us.”

 

“I love you boys so much.” He smiled and then pulled them into a hug. “Now let’s go eat.”


	35. Wedding Night Present

The women had out done themselves. Sam had wanted to have the evening catered so that Carol could just enjoy herself, but she and the girls had insisted. Carol and Belle had done most of the cooking since neither of them was employed outside their homes. Mandy sort of had an inside track with her boss, scamming herself a couple extra holidays and Diana had worked extra shifts the week before to get herself the days off to tackle the decorating.

 

There was a prime rib that Sam was pretty sure was half the cow and a turkey with all the trimmings. Roasted white and sweet potatoes with roasted carrots, grilled asparagus, buttered squash and green beans with almonds. There were about six different salads and then cheese and pickles, deviled eggs, cut fruit; Sam couldn’t think of anything else that might go on a dinner table. They had considered setting up a buffet table but then settled on passing dishes around, family style; this was their family, after all.

 

John and Carol sat at one end of the wide table with Sam and Dean at the other the four couples across from each other down the length. Once everyone had served their plate and John had ensured that everyone had a glass of champagne, he rose to his feet. “I’d like to thank you all for coming here tonight. These last months have been . . . difficult for all of us, but have also shown us who our true and dearest friends are. I have never seen my boy as happy as he has been or is here tonight with Dean so I would like to propose a toast.” The guests started to rise. “No, no.” He took Carol’s hand and nodded to the boys who rose with him. “I raise my glass to you, our friends, for making this evening possible by all of your love and support.”

 

With glasses raised and crystal tinkling, Sam smiled at each set of eyes that came to rest on him. Dean just smiled at Sam. When Sam had brought him this idea, Dean couldn’t say that he was entirely sold on the idea. It wasn’t that Dean didn’t feel secure in this room; it was just hard for Dean to put himself out there for everyone like they had tonight. If he had any lingering doubts though, watching Sam put them all to rest. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Sam so happy, so content, even before the attack, but certainly after it he didn’t think he’d ever see Sam like this again. How could he refuse? Not like this whole party idea didn’t have an upside either. As they were sitting back down Dean let out a chuckle and Sam turned. “What’s so funny?”

 

“Nothing, I just realized that I get to take you out of that suit later.”

 

“I thought you might figure that out.” Sam grinned. “But not before you dance with me.”

 

Dean gave a little groan. “In front of people?”

 

Sam nudged his shoulder. “In front of our people.”

 

* * *

 

It certainly felt like a family meal. With John and Carol at the head of the table, Diana sat to John’s right, next to Jer and then Mandy, followed by Edward, Olivia’s fiancé. Their partners sat across from them up the other side of the table so that it was boy girl all the way and mixed up enough for many different conversations. Edward sat to Dean’s right and was discussing horses and riding out with them sometime. He was a real estate lawyer in town and while they had always known the name, Winchester’s didn’t trade in land so had never dealt on a professional basis.

 

Olivia had been both surprised and honored to be invited here for this evening and while she was here as a guest, it was not only her profession, but her nature to analyze (which may have led her to her profession). It was also her best chance to get a handle on all the people Sam talked about.

 

She could easily see why he sought out Belle on particularly blue days since just her smile could light up a stranger. If only half of Diana’s natural confidence seeped into her profession it was easy to see why he turned to her for his medical concerns. Mandy and Dave just displayed real affection for their friends even though Olivia knew that Steve was putting them in a tight spot. With Steve’s drive to solve the case he was leaving a lot of extra responsibility on them, in essence carrying weight for Sam and Steve but they seemed to be taking it in stride. The most truly surprising fact about this group was that they hadn’t been friends like this for longer. The bonds forged in only seven or eight months would be worthy of a paper for any journal. She smiled to herself and then Steve silenced the whole table.

 

“Whatcha smiling about Doc?” He smiled with good humor. “Trying to figure out what makes us tick?”

 

“Maybe a little.” She smiled back. “I only know most of you by name so it’s an opportunity to put faces and personalities to those names.”

 

“Do we pass muster?” Jer inquired from across the table.

 

Olivia glanced at all of them in turn with not one judgment looking back at her from anyone. Finally her eyes lit on Sam and Dean; Sam, content and Dean expectant for some reason. She turned back to the table. “John was right.” She smiled and if any of them had any lingering nerves about the shrink in the mix they were gone. “We’re here because of all of you. It’s not very often I see that in my line of work.”

 

* * *

 

Then there was desert. Sam was fairly certain he put on ten pounds just from looking at their desert buffet. They each took their plate to the dishwasher and Olivia insisted on helping Mandy and Diana with the clean up. Sam refused to let Carol do anymore work for them and pulled her into the great room to watch the others move the furniture into a dance floor. “You’re my mom here; this is supposed to be your party too.” He grinned at her wrapping his arm around her shoulder and she shivered a little. “Are you okay?”

 

“I’m sorry.” She smiled up at him. “I’m sure someday I’ll get used to you calling me that, but it still gets me.”

 

“Well, you are. It was only my foolishness that stopped me from saying it a long time ago.”

 

* * *

 

Sam was a little nervous since he had left the choice of their first dance to Dean and was half expecting Garth Brooks’ ‘Friends in Low Places’ but Dean had apparently poked into his iPod and found ‘In Your Arms’. Sam willed himself not to cry again at the thoughtfulness of his big tough cowboy, at least not yet.

 

The song started and Sam snaked his big hand inside Dean’s suit jacket to rest on his lower back, not quite skin on skin yet, but no one could see his deft fingers slip inside Dean’s waistband either. Dean allowed himself to be led if only because Sam’s added height made it logical for him to be in the lead. He smiled up at Sam. “How long do we have to stay here?”

 

“Until the guests leave.”

 

“Oh, I can make them leave.” He hummed against Sam’s neck without even realizing that he had laid his head on that big shoulder.

 

“There’s plenty of time for that and all the sweeter for waiting.” Then the chorus came on:

 

Let me sleep in your arms

Let me breathe

This clean bright light surrounding you

 

And then Dean laid soft kisses up his neck and sung along with the second verse:

 

I know I'm not smart

But still I'm trying hard

Let me be your guard

Protecting you, my angel, from the dark

 

Sam couldn’t hold the tears back after that. Not enough that he had picked one of Sam’s songs, but had learned the lyrics. “Okay, maybe we kick them out in an hour.” Sam smiled down on him as they were lost in the lyrics of the song and each other.

 

Let me sleep in your arms

Let me breathe

This clean bright light surrounding you

Let me dream in your arms

Let me breathe

This clean bright light surrounding you

 

When it ended Sam’s hand came off Dean’s back to sneak up and cradle his chin into another sweet kiss. “You better stop that or I’m going to show these people things they didn’t count on.” Dean smirked.

 

“People?” Sam smiled back but let Dean walk away. He turned to the gathering and spoke a little shakily. “I really tried to find a song that was more original, but I couldn’t find anything that said what I wanted to say. I lost my mother when I was a baby but I took way to long to acknowledge that my mom was here all along.” He took the steps towards her and took her hands in his. “Carol, I won’t ever be able to tell you what you mean to me but I’m damn sure going to try.”

 

‘Wind Beneath My Wings’ started as Sam spun her to the center of the dance floor. “Oh Sam.” She smiled through damp eyes.

 

“I said it was too sentimental.”

 

“No Sam. . .”

 

“No Carol, listen to me one last time.” Sam reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek. “You did all the mom things; you were there for all the mom jobs; you said all the mom things, I just never gave you anything back. I just couldn’t find it in myself to do the simplest thing and thank you for patching up skinned knees and listening to my crap for eighteen years. You deserved so much better than I ever gave you and now I just don’t feel like I can ever make it up to you.”

 

Sam smiled down on her as the chorus began:

 

Did you ever know that you’re my hero

You’re everything I would like to be

I can fly higher than an eagle

For you are the wind beneath my wings

 

“You know I didn’t do it all for you, right?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I don’t know if this is the time, but you know you kept me distracted from my own . . . stuff.”

 

And there he was, after all these years, after she was finally married to his father, Brian Gooding showed up. She was right; this wasn’t the time, but he didn’t want to shut that door in her face. “Will you tell me about him?”

 

“If you want me to.” She nodded sadly.

 

“I’d like to know.”

 

“And I think it's time I talked about it so . . . soon then.”

 

Their song ended and Sam walked her over and handed her off to his father. Sam grabbed Belle and Dean, Diana and they started dancing. There was dancing and deserts and then brandy and the men took the good cigars out onto the porch.

 

It was just after midnight when the last of their guests left for home. The furniture had been mostly put back to right but Dean and John picked up the front room while Sam and Carol went to the kitchen to see if anything needed doing before she could go to bed. The girls had done a fine job in her absence though and everything seemed in its place. “You boys go on home now.” She hugged Sam.

 

“You’re sure you’re not going to uber clean all night?”

 

“Promise.”

 

He wrapped her in a hug. “No more tears about this, but I love you.” He pushed her back a bit and looked in her eyes, no tears.

 

“I love you too. Now get out of here so I can get your father to bed.” She winked at him.

 

“I so don’t want to know.” He laughed. “Dean, come on. The folks want to get it on.”

 

Dean looked at John who had a bit of flush in his cheeks but shrugged. “I’m not dead yet son.”

 

* * *

 

They walked comfortably up the path hand in hand. The night was clear and cool, not cold, but cool enough that they didn’t take their time. Or maybe it had nothing to do with the temperature outside.

 

Dean went in first and took off his jacket, laying it carefully on the back of the chair before moving to the fireplace. Sam grabbed the bubbly he had left in the fridge and two glasses and then stood watching Dean in half a suit making the fire. Sheepskins it is, he thought. Even in the suit, Dean at his most uncomfortable was still something to watch. He moved as if every movement was carefully orchestrated to accomplish the task.

 

“Are you just going to stand there watching me or are you going to pour?”

 

Sam smiled to himself. “Do you want the champagne or do you want your whiskey?” Sam held the bottle up. “I know you don’t love this stuff.”

 

“Can I lick it off your belly again?" Dean leered. "That was kind of good.”

 

“Pick your fetish baby, body shots or suit because I’m not getting Crystal on my suit.”

 

“Well we are still celebrating, aren’t we?”

 

“Everyday.” Sam nodded.

 

“Come here.” Dean held out his hand and Sam took it folding himself down on to the floor beside Dean. “We don’t need booze.” He took the glasses and bottle and set them aside before helping Sam out of his jacket. He pulled Sam by his tie into a kiss using the time to undo the knot and the buttons on Sam’s shirt, pushing the clothes aside. “We don’t need toys or tools or weird little fetishes. I need you and you need me and as long as we have that then there’s nothing we can’t do.”

 

Sam had no words for that, how could he top it anyway? It always kind of surprised him though that it was Dean, the quiet one, who always seemed to come up with the right words at the right time. Sam’s big hands came up to frame Dean’s face as he pulled him into a kiss that went from sensual to hungry in no time. Sam had been watching Dean for hours now, waiting to get him home, get his hands on that golden skin, his lips on those amazing freckles and tongue along the line of his collarbone. All through dinner Sam could feel the heat between them where their thighs met. During their dances he kept trying to memorize tax law or something to distract him from how good it felt to have Dean in his arms, to have Dean’s big wide hand in his thin long one, to have Dean’s scent in his nose. Sam broke the kiss to breathe and cool down just a bit. This was their ‘wedding night’ after all and he wanted to slow it down some. He pulled back just enough to look into Dean’s amazing eyes and he laughed.

 

Dean’s eyes widened. “Did I do something funny?”

 

“No. I’m just . . . so happy, you know.”

 

Dean smiled back. “Yea, baby, I know.” He rose up on his knees shucking his shirt off as Sam’s two hands came to play at his belt buckle.

 

“I’ve been waiting for this all night.”

 

When Dean’s cock sprang free Sam smiled, placing whisper kisses across the head and shaft and Dean’s head fell back despite himself. There was nothing he liked to look at more than Sam’s beautiful lips on his cock. Dean forced his head back up to watch Sam smile around him; to watch as those eyes looked up at him so full of love. Dean was so full of need right now that he didn’t have too much faith that he would be able to hold on for long this time. Then Sam looked up once more and his lashes fluttered closed as he sighed around Dean, so content. “Sammy.” Was all the warning that he could provide before he shot down Sam’s throat.

 

Sam sucked and licked and kissed Dean through all the tremors and aftershocks that followed. Dean stroked the side of Sam’s face bringing him close for a kiss. There was nothing hotter, Dean thought; than the taste of himself on Sam’s tongue. Dean moaned a little with a smile on his lips.

 

Sam smiled back. “I’ve been working on something for you for a wedding present.”

 

Dean tilted his head, a tiny frown creasing his forehead. “What’s that?”

 

“I want you inside me Dean.” Despite having just come, Dean’s cock stirred back to life.

 

Dean’s eyes were wide with all the implications of what Sam was saying. “No Sam.” He shook his head. “It’s too soon.”

 

“Dean, listen.” Sam took his face in his hands. “I’ve missed you so much.” He laid kisses along Dean’s jaw. “I need this.” He keened, almost desperate. “I need you.”

 

“Sam, I don’t know.” Dean shook his head again. “What if it hurts you? In any way. Tonight’s not the night for that.”

 

“Baby, I know you could never hurt me. That’s why tonight is perfect. I’ve never loved you more than I do right now.” Dean was trying to work up a new protest when Sam took the first two fingers of his right hand and laid them on his own tongue in a big sexy gesture, licking and sucking them and coating them with spit before reaching down and inserting them in himself. “Please Baby.”

 

Dean groaned, a low rumble from his chest. “Oh Sam.” Dean took his face in his hands and kissed him long and slow, his tongue licking and caressing up and down the sides of Sam’s. “You’ll stop me . . .” Dean didn’t finish, didn’t need to.

 

“If I need to.”

 

Dean reached over into the footstool where they kept a supply of lube for these occasions. “I love you so much Sammy.”

 

“Oh Dean, I love you too.” Dean slipped the first digit in and Sam gasped involuntarily causing him to freeze. “Baby, please don’t stop.” Sam smiled up at Dean. “Please don’t ever stop.” The second followed quickly but the third made Sam tense. Dean used his other hand to caress Sam’s chest as Dean spoke loving words.

 

“Love you so much baby. I’m going to make it so good for you again. My beautiful baby boy. So beautiful. Love you.”

 

Until finally Sam couldn’t take any more. “Will you please shut up and fuck me.”

 

If Dean thought that he wasn’t ready, that statement changed his mind. He really hadn’t thought that he could get any harder until Sam spoke those words. Dean lined his rock hard member up against Sam’s scarred little pucker and with one last pleading look at his lover began the slow steady push in. Sam’s legs went rigid for a moment and then Dean’s hand closed around his cock and he relaxed. After only a few strokes Dean was all the way in and Sam sighed. “Yea Baby, that’s right.” Dean set up their rhythm and stroked Sam’s hardness with every thrust until they were rocking and grinding out of control. Sam kept calling out encouragement for Dean and gasping every time Dean hit that bundle deep inside.

 

Dean looked down on his husband smiling up at him, eyes all black pupil, cheeks flushed, hair slick. “Baby, you ready?”

 

“Mmmmm.” Sam moaned. “Yea Baby, let’s go.”

 

Dean couldn’t hold it then if he tried. He growled low in his throat as he thrust tight to Sam’s body and shot deep inside him. Sam’s channel clenched over Dean’s pulsing cock in turn pushing Sam to his precipice. Dean added a turn to the steady pull on Sam’s dick and was rewarded with thick ropey streams of come.

 

Dean trailed his clean hand up across Sam’s chest to cup his cheek, willing Sam to open his eyes so Dean would know. “Sammy?”

 

“Mmmmm.” Was the only answer, but the eyes opened to show Dean the hazel orbs coming back into himself. “Love you . . . so much.”

 

And Dean smiled. Another barrier down.


	36. Best Christmas Ever

The down hill to Christmas was hectic for them all. Sam and John did, indeed throw a few cocktail parties together, not for the write off but the show off. John realized he hadn’t been so proud of his home in years and damn if he didn’t want to show off his wife too.

 

 

While a ranch couldn’t ever one hundred percent shut down, the hands had most of two weeks off between Christmas and New Years so Dean had a lot of organizing and arranging to do before they left so that there was a minimum for the family to do to maximize their holidays. Dean reflected that even though he’d been part of this family for twenty years or so, they’d never felt like family before. Last year was a start, but it seemed like this was what Dean had waited his whole life for, at least ever since his dad died. Dean didn’t really think about his dad too often. He thought about how Bobby would deal with a calf or colt or how to put weight on a runt or any number of animal things, but he hadn’t thought about how his dad would view him. Was he afraid to think about it or had it just never occurred to him. He was pretty sure that Bobby would have been glad to see him happy, but would he have wanted to know what made him happy? He didn’t remember too much about his dad and certainly not whether or not he had any issues with Dean’s lifestyle; at eight, it hadn’t come up. He might have to have a conversation with John and find out what he remembered, but right now there was a feed order and ride out schedule to deal with.

 

 

Carol was perhaps busiest of them all. By the second week of December she was pretty sure she had bitten off more than she could chew. If it hadn’t been enough planning an impromptu wedding party for the boys then John and Sam had added two open houses; one for friends, one for business. Then she had the church decorating, the senior visits to schedule, the groceries and baking for the family Christmas, shopping and wrapping. . . and she couldn’t remember being quite so happy. They had all promised not to go crazy on gifts, but she was also pretty sure none of them had obeyed that. She couldn’t wait to see how the boys would react to what she had got them. Not quite like an eight year old getting a wagon, but she was pleased none the less.

 

* * *

 

Sam and Dean took an overnight trip to Dallas to do some shopping. Not easy to buy the perfect gift for your new mom at the Wal-Mart. They had clothes, they had crystal glasses, they had a book and two cd’s and then Sam stopped by a jewelry store window. “Dean?” Sam called.

 

“I see it Sammy.”

 

“Should we?”

 

“I don’t see how we can’t.” And Dean opened the door for Sam.

 

* * *

 

Christmas Eve and Dean Singer found himself in the one place he didn’t think he would ever be, but despite one big ripple, he found that this year he had something to give thanks for. He sat on the inside of the pew beside Sam who sat to the right of Carol with John on the outside. Parishioners stopped to speak to John and Carol and most knew Sam and Dean and spoke or waved, but many of them paid some special attention to Dean. He leaned in to Sam.

 

“Do they really have to look so surprised that I’m here?”

 

“I’m pretty sure they’re just surprised that the roof didn’t cave in when you walked through the doors.”

 

“Very funny.” Dean grinned dryly.

 

“Did you see Carol’s face?” Sam asked. “Dad’s? That should be worth a little squirming don’t you think?”

 

“It’s why I’m still here.” He put two fingers in the neck of his shirt and tried to adjust. “You so owe me.”

 

“Me?” Sam blinked. “Come on dude, once a year you can go to church with your family and not be a jerk. You’re going to get Christmas sex anyway, don’t make it blackmail.”

 

Dean was a little taken aback by Sam’s vehemence. Dean reflected a bit on that. This was his family and even though they had suffered a tragedy this year, it had also brought them closer than ever, closer than any family he had ever known. So what if it wasn’t over; that they still had the man hunt to contend with. Sam was so good right now that Dean almost didn’t want to find the people responsible; didn’t want to have to bring it all up again. But every time Dean watched Sam change his clothes and he saw those scars, those ugly reminders, it brought all that rage back for Dean and he knew, no matter how good Sam was, how good they could be together, that he himself would never be okay until he could take some of this rage out on those bastards. Dean cast his eyes to the vaulted ceiling above him and, for the first time he could remember, Dean prayed.

 

* * *

 

They drove home, Sam at the wheel of his truck, his parents in the back seat whispering and nudging and nuzzling each other like a couple kids. He reached his hand out for Dean’s and smiled when their eyes met. “Got any cold water for the kids in the back seat?”

 

Dean threw a quick glance over his shoulder. “Ew. And I’m sure everyone thinks that’s us.”

 

“It probably would have been if I’d let Dad drive.”

 

“True.” Dean glanced back again. “It is kind of awesome though.” He said softly.

 

“I’m pretty sure we’re going to have a gag worthy Valentine’s Day at the ranch.”

 

Dean laughed his big hearty laugh and then Sam had to laugh at the commotion from the back seat as John and Carol tried to right themselves as if they’d only noticed they had an audience. Soon the boys were laughing so hard at themselves and each other that Sam thought he might have to pull the car over at the Binder’s road curve. Sam looked at Dean and Dean froze, but Sam smiled; a happy memory to get him past this corner now.

 

* * *

 

There was so much food again that Sam was certain he was going to put on fifty pounds. “Well you still haven’t put the weight back on that you lost.”

 

“Maybe, but I’m not working out either.”

 

Dean snuck up behind him wrapping his arms around a slim enough waist and propping his chin up on a taller shoulder. “A little baby fat won’t hurt you.”

 

“Baby fat?” Sam chuckled.

 

“Well, you’re my baby.” John and Carol didn’t even flinch anymore at any of their boys’ affection as they once had. Carol even rolled her eyes at that one. “What?” Dean asked incredulously following her back to the kitchen. “I should tell him his ass looks too big in those jeans.”

 

Sam laughed but then tried very hard to look at his own ass. “He’s teasing Carol, Sam. They’re still hanging off you.” John smiled but there was concern in his voice.

 

“Don’t worry Dad. I’m going to get back in shape after the holidays.”

 

“Oh, I’m not worried about that at all.” John smiled. “How’s the grass project coming?”

 

“Good so far.” Sam pulled up his chair beside his father. Sam usually helped put out the supper so let Dean do it for once. “The blood tests are coming back with normal results on everything so it looks good, but we have to have results from birth to table before we can market it.”

 

The way John was looking at him, Sam couldn’t even be sure that John was listening and then it didn’t matter. “I’m really proud of you son.”

 

“Dad?”

 

“You’re so much more than I ever had any hope you would be.” John looked down at his hands. I wasn’t much of a father to you Sam, too lost in my own head, so I don’t really take any credit here, but I am just so proud of the man that you’ve become.”

 

One of the things Olivia had taught him was that when people confess their feelings there’s no point in arguing with them because they’re already feeling them. “Thanks Dad.” Sam smiled. “Just for the record though, when people ask me about the man that I am, I’m going to tell them it’s because John Winchester is my father.”

 

Dean returned then with a plate for Sam. “I went easy on the carbs for you there Frances since I know you’re worried about your figure.”

 

Sam accepted with a smile and a shake of his head and the sure knowledge that he had never loved anyone like he loved Dean.

 

* * *

 

“He said what?” Dean lay propped up in bed reading the breeding form for a horse he was considering.

 

“You heard me.” Sam smiled from the bathroom.

 

“Do you want to write it down?”

 

“Don’t worry; I’m pretty sure I’ll remember that.” Sam emerged and walked over to the bed climbing on to it on his knees and making his way over to Dean. “Whatcha reading?”

 

“Just checking the stud report on this horse.”

 

“You are not going to make some bad joke about it are you?”

 

“What, like a replacement stud or the value of a good stud, something like that?”

 

“Yea, precisely like that.” Sam smiled taking the report and putting it on his nightstand effectively covering Dean with his entire body.

 

“No, I’m not going to do that.” Sam hovered there for a long moment just staring into Dean’s eyes. “Are you going to kiss me, or just think about it a while longer.”

 

“Thinking about it.” He smiled before diving in to capture Dean’s mouth with his. “Do you want to talk about my stud value?”

 

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s non negotiable anyway.” Sam was ill prepared for the surprise of Dean grasping him by the shoulders and flipping him over on to his back. “I’m not letting you get away for any price.” Dean reached down and kissed Sam hard until neither of them could breathe and it became arguable if either of them wanted to. They broke apart only for moments to gasp breath and go right back in. Sam had no idea where the desperate hunger was coming from and, to be honest, he didn’t really think that he cared too much. Dean licked big wet circles on Sam’s chest as he moved back and forth. Sam was making those delicious sounds in his throat that spurred Dean on. Dean couldn’t think of anything that he wouldn’t do if it caused Sam to make those noises. Sam’s hands roamed over Dean’s head and shoulders as he moved lower. Dean massaged Sam’s thighs still marveling at how little it took for Sam to open up for him. By the time Dean’s tongue met Sam’s opening he was making those mewling sounds and begging Dean for release. Dean rose up on his knees and placed his hand across Sam’s chest as he worked him open and gave him a deep wet kiss as he placed his raging hard cock against Sam.

 

“Dean, please.”

 

Dean had to avert his eyes; couldn’t meet that look in Sam’s eyes and hope to hold on. “I love you so much Sam.”

 

“I love you. . .” Sam gasped as Dean started to push himself in. Their lips met as Dean soothed Sam through until he was tight to Sam, until they were joined in that most perfect way and caught in the impossible heat. Dean lay up against him kissing and nuzzling his neck until Sam was well past ready, his own cock between them throbbing and weeping. “For God’s sake Dean, move.”

 

Dean started as if he’d forgotten what they were there for he was so caught up in the feeling of Sam and the scent in the crook of his neck. Dean moved slower than usual, but neither of them was complaining. Face to face they stared into each other’s eyes and smiled. Sam’s hands framed Dean’s face as his hips rose to meet Dean’s every thrust. The rocking caused enough friction to push Sam to the edge, his breathing soon ragged and shallow. “Dean.” He gasped as if on his last breath. Dean picked up the pace, pounding just a bit harder and that was enough for Sam. Dean felt the warmth between them just as he felt his own balls tighten against him and he filled Sam’s tight warm heat with his seed.

 

“Merry Christmas Sammy.” Dean smiled down at his beautiful love.

 

Sam was all flushed cheeks and panting breaths. “Best Christmas ever.”


	37. Castiel

Sam’s head snapped up off Dean’s chest, a noise waking him up. He looked at his soundly sleeping husband and wondered if he had perhaps imagined it. He slid out of bed, trying hard not to disturb, and grabbed a pair of sleep pants from the chair on his way. He made his way quietly downstairs, and checked the living room first. There were presents under the tree that he hadn’t seen the night before and then he heard it again. Yelping?

 

Sam walked to the front door and as soon as he slid the bolt back Dean was half way down the stairs. Sometimes Sam was really gullible. Like on any day Dean could sleep in until eight o’clock. He’d been lying there waiting for Sam, jiggling Sam, trying to wake Sam without him knowing that he’d been woken up. Finally Sam got the door open. “What the . . ?”

 

It was a huge box with polka dots and an enormous red bow on the top. Some of the dots were actually air holes and the big tag said. ‘To Sam: Love Santa’. Sam took the lid off and laughed out loud at what looked like a thirty pound box of black and brown fur. He took his index finger and reached in to poke a scratch at the fur ball and was rewarded with some movement and then liquid brown eyes turned to him and puppy teeth nipped the finger.

 

“Ow. That’s no way to start our friendship.”

 

“Well you did just poke him.” Dean said from behind them in his sleep pants and bare feet. “Come on bring him inside. It’s cold out here.”

 

Sam turned childish eyes up to Dean. “I can’t believe it Dean, Santa brought me a puppy.”

 

“Very funny, now get in here.” Dean turned back towards the kitchen to make them some sort of breakfast.

 

Sam reached into the box, this time letting the pile of fur sniff him first. “Hey boy. Why don’t you let me get you in to where it’s warm?” The big brown eyes looked up at him again a bit suspiciously. “No, I’m not going to poke you again.” Sam answered the implied question. He eased his big hands gently around the pup and cradled the little package to his naked chest. Up close it was nowhere near thirty pounds, more like fifteen. Sam couldn’t get over how soft the little furry bundle was, and warm? Sam thought Dean felt warm against his bare skin but this little ball felt like his big ceramic cup of coffee.

 

“Seriously Dean, I can’t believe you got me a puppy.”

 

“I got you security Sam.”

 

“What?” Sam looked down, absently scratching behind little ears.

 

“Sam don’t assume that I don’t want to go with you anymore because that’s not what this is about. I’ll go with you anywhere, anytime for anything you need, but I get the feeling sometimes that you need to do things and you just wait for my schedule to clear up.” Dean reached out and stroked the tiny head. “We’re going to train this little fella to take care of this family so you can go where you want, when you want.”

 

Sam kept stroking the little body in his arms, somehow already reluctant to put him down. He finally met Dean’s eyes taking in what he was saying. Sam knew that he was dragging Dean around for security; he’d admitted that to himself. He knew Dean was right and he had changed plans, made appointments to fit Dean’s schedule which were not always convenient to Sam or his parties, but shouldn’t he just man up and get over it. Was it really getting him past it to swap the dog for Dean?

 

“You’re not going to make him some kind of junk yard dog, are you?”

 

Dean chuckled out loud. “No. He’s your pet, Sam, he’s going to be getting fur all over our sheepskins and fighting for room in our bed, not chained in the front yard.” Dean turned back to the kitchen, his onions in need of a stir. “But the trainer says if we make sure he knows who his people are he’ll be more aggressive to strangers. More bark than bite, I’m sure, but a barking dog is usually enough anyway.” The little pup started as the sausage sizzled touching the hot skillet. “The trainer comes on Monday by the way.”

 

“What’s his name?”

 

“Castiel.”

 

“Castiel?”

 

“Yea, the breeder was something for numerology or angelography or some weirdness. There were seven in the litter so she chose the angels of the week or something and he was the forth so, Thursday’s angel. She wrote it all down for you in the box.” Dean waved his spoon vaguely in the direction of the door where Sam had left the box. “You can change the name if you want.”

 

“Castiel.” Sam tried it out and the pup adjusted himself lifting his head slightly and squirming his butt which Sam took as a sign. “Nope. I think Castiel will do just fine.”

 

* * *

 

After a breakfast of sausage, eggs and home fries during which Sam poured over the reams of paper that the breeder had sent with the puppy, they decided to take him with them to the barns. “Let’s introduce him to the rest of the family.” Sam grinned.

 

To say Dean was pleased with Sam’s reactions would be an understatement; he was over the moon. He was afraid that Sam might over react to his reasoning and think that Dean was trying to get rid of him. So having Sam accept it was great; but then to have him so obviously love the little guy was even better. Sam had the lead on the puppy, not that the delicate paws ever touched the ground. Castiel snuggled up against Sam as he held him up for the horses to sniff him but eventually the pup took a tentative sniff back. Dean led both of the horses out to the gate and Sam put Castiel down with them. The two huge equines watched the dog looking up at them for a moment as he shuffled warily around the big open space. They each nuzzled him with big noses before galloping off down the field.

 

“I’d say they approve.” Dean mused as Sam grinned from ear to ear. Then Sam tied the lead off and helped Dean put the rest of the horses out in the corral.

 

Once the chores were done, Sam turned back to Dean. “Do you want to call the boys back for a ride?”

 

Dean checked his watch. “It’s 10:30 and we have to be at the house for noon. Maybe later. Why don’t we go back and open the rest of our gifts?” Sam chuckled. “What?”

 

“I almost forgot.”

 

* * *

 

There was nothing extravagant, but there seemed to be a lot. Sam got Dean a PDA so he could program both their schedules into it and, at the look of sheer terror on Dean’s face, promised to do all the programming himself. There were a lot of clothes, Sam bought Dean a new pair of boots, Dean had all of the puppy’s gear for Sam. During all the unwrapping the pup stayed by Sam’s side pawing at wrapping paper first suspiciously and then with relish. By the time they were done, the pup was passed out in his new bed and the boys took it as tacit approval to go ahead and get their showers.

 

“Well, I know I want to try my new body wash, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to reach my back.” Dean mused coyly.

 

“Is that an implication that you want some help?”

 

“Implication? Me? I’m pretty sure that’s my way of telling you to get up the stairs and get naked.”

 

* * *

 

There could be no more perfect sensation for Sam than just plain touching Dean’s skin. Any way, any amount, any time, any day, but pressed up against him in the warmth of their shower had to be the best. Sam had washed their hair and now held Dean tight to his chest licking and sucking the warm water off his neck and shoulders. Dean was past words and there were only low moans and hums coming from him now. “You like that Dean?” Sam cooed in his ear. “You just want this?”

 

“No.” Dean managed.

 

“Tell me what you want baby.” Sam teased pretty sure of what he was going to do anyway.

 

“Inside.” Dean gasped as Sam’s hand ghosted warm lather across his balls. “Make love to me Sammy.”

 

Sam was a bit taken aback. He had figured Dean for a hard fast fuck this morning, not sensuality. “Okay . . . yea baby. Here or bed?”

 

“Right here, right now!” He turned his head to where Sam was no longer sucking on his neck demanding a kiss. Sam obliged reaching between them to caress the beautiful mounds of Dean’s butt, his long digits slipping between and finding no resistance. “Please Sammy.” Dean never begged. If there had been any more blood in Sam’s brain, it was gone now. He bent his knees a bit to get his raging cock in position, but gravity did most of the work. His left hand was wrapped around Dean’s waist while his right caressed that broad chest and stroked his cheek. “Ohhhh Sammm.” He moaned low in his throat. “I love you.” Did Sam hear a hitch in his voice? “Love you so much.” He sure did. If he wasn’t quite so close to the edge, Sam might have thought about freaking out a little bit. He rolled his hips up into Dean slow and easy and hit the button every time. The arm around Dean’s waist finally lowered and Sam took his cock in hand. Dean felt impossibly hard in his hand and hot, how could he feel hotter than the steam all around them. Sam leaned his head down laying soft kisses and not so soft nips along the line of Dean’s shoulder as climax approached. He had left poor Dean too long and after only a few strokes felt his balls pull up to his body. Sam heard the whimper in his own throat as he filled his hubby with the load of his hot come just as Dean crumpled forward his own release disappearing quickly down the drain.

 

Strangely, Sam’s legs felt weak and he leaned back against the cool stone wall to steady himself as he turned Dean to face him and pulled him into a tight embrace. “You okay Dean?” Sam purred in his ear.

 

“Oh yea.” He nodded. “Why?”

 

“Nothing. I just thought . . .” Sam trailed off. If Dean wasn’t going to admit anything he wasn’t going to push today. “I love you, that’s all.”

 

* * *

 

Carol cried.

 

It was a family ring, her April birthstone a one carat square cut diamond turned on its corner in a diamond shape with Dean’s January Garnet and Sam’s May Emerald, two half circles at the top on either side. As a whole they formed a heart that was surrounded again by diamonds. No one bothered with any other sappy speeches. She hugged each of them in turn, wiped her eyes and they opened the mountain of presents under the tree.

 

For a guy who usually wore jeans and t-shirts or button downs, Dean was sure he was not going to have to buy clothes for the next three years at least. Carol had bought them clothes like they were going back to school or something. Making up for all those years that she hadn’t really been able to spoil them. There was a blue ray player for the cottage and one of the hot gaming systems. Dean couldn’t remember either of them expressing interest in video games but he supposed that she just wanted to buy toys. Then she presented her piece de resistance. It was a scrap book, a wedding album.

 

The night of their ceremony, there had been a photographer and she had asked him to do a portrait of every couple that had been with them. She had gone to each couple and asked them to write a few things about the boys so among their own portraits she had these pages.

 

While all the gifts to the boys had read from Carol and John or Mom and Dad, it was clear that she had relished her shopping chores and it was unclear if John even knew what she had purchased for them. When there was nothing but puppy shredded wrapping paper everywhere, John quietly rose from his comfy chair and went over to his desk returning with a black leather folio with a shiny gold bow on it. He handed it to Dean with a smile. “It’s for both of you, but I’d like you to open it.”

 

Dean looked up, his expression a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. Sam could see over his shoulder that there was a piece of paper in the folio, but couldn’t make it out. Dean read for a few moments before his jaw actually dropped open. “No John. It’s too much.”

 

“What?” Sam asked curiosity and concern clouding his features.

 

“He’s deeded us the ranch.”


	38. Holiday Festivities

“Dad.” Was all that Sam could manage.

 

“It would have gone to you anyhow but I needed to do it for you now.” His eyes were damp, but there were no tears to be shed. “It frees things up if you guys want to build a different house or need to expand the cottage or anything like that.”

 

“Dad you know that’s not what we want . . .”

 

“Sam, it’s done.” John smiled. “That is the deed in your names and now it’ll be your money if you want to put it back.”

 

“I really . . . I don’t know what to say.” Sam swallowed hard. “Thanks Dad.”

 

* * *

 

“Really Mom, do you think we don’t feed ourselves at our house?” Dean ribbed her as he helped set out another prime rib and another turkey.

 

“I’m going to shave it all for the buffet table for tonight.” She huffed at him and then caught his eye. “But you already knew that.”

 

“You are pretty easy, you know.” He nodded taking the pickles and cheese to cut up for trays.

 

“Thanks.” She frowned and then couldn’t maintain it and smiled up at him. “Thanks for that.”

 

“Thanks for everything Carol.” He spit it out awkwardly, their conversation not leading him to it organically.

 

“It was our first Christmas Dean. . .”

 

“No. That’s not what I mean.” He was glad to have a task in his hands so he didn’t have to meet her eyes. “I’m talking about the last three months. I don’t know if I could have kept it all together without you here.”

 

She set down her utensils in hopes that he would stop and look at her; he did. “I’ve always been here for you Dean.” She nodded her head absently. “I’m always going to be here for you. Even if you didn’t finally start calling me Mom or buy me beautiful jewelry to show me, that’s who I’ve always tried to be.”

 

“I know and I’m sorry it was so hard.”

 

“It’s not even that Dean, it’s just who I am.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “There were a lot of places that I could have gone and made a decent wage to do an easier day’s work for sure. But there’s no way I could have left John with you two boys. All of you hurting in your own ways. It would have hurt me more than anything any one of you did.” She smiled a little sadly at him. “Some people are just born care takers.”

 

Dean wrapped his arms around her and laid his head on her shoulder swallowing the lump in his throat. “Well you’ve done a hell of a good job.”

 

* * *

 

They had dinner, just the four of them and then started prepping for the buffet dinner for the rest of their intrepid gang that evening. Belle and Jeremiah arrived first with Baby Jer so he could tear through his mountain of gifts. Belle made all the cursory protests, but who can argue with the delight of an eighteen month old. Then Sam introduced Castiel and it was hard to judge who was more excited, the boy or the pup.

 

Dave and Mandy arrived just before Steve and Diana who was a bit late getting out of the hospital. Neither of the men was one hundred percent off duty and wore their pagers but there were no incidents needing their talents. Olivia and Edward had arrived last.

 

They ate and drank and danced, played cards and games, took turns with both baby and puppy and generally enjoyed the company they were with. John took the time to reflect on the unconventional little family that they had built here. He had to wonder if the boys had somehow subconsciously drifted towards the collection of orphans and discards because of their own losses. Jeremiah had come to the ranch from a short incarceration due to a juvenile charge that his parents had never forgiven him for and Belle had given up her family for him. Of the other four, only Diana and Dave had surviving parents, Diana’s mother in a nursing home beset by Alzheimer’s and Dave’s dad had moved to Arizona to be with a second wife who had little use for Texas and Dave. John didn’t know anything about Olivia but her relationship with Sam had become so much more than clinical that he resolved to find out more about her. Edward was the only one with an actual family and they had spent the morning there. For John, who had been an only child to parents he had lost in a car accident before he even met Mary this was as good a family he could ever hope for.

 

* * *

 

During the week between Christmas and New Years, the family kept mostly to themselves. With the hands off for the week, Sam and Dean did the two day ride out taking Castiel with them. Dean complained good naturedly that he wasn’t going to be getting any with the dog curled up in Sam’s sleeping bag, but he was secretly just really happy that they were building a bond.

 

It didn’t seem to matter that there were no more parties, no more guests; Carol just kept baking until John threatened an intervention.

 

Olivia came out to the ranch to see John and Carol to check on Sam since he was calling on her less and less. While it was obviously a good thing, she wanted to make sure it was for the right reason.

 

The dog trainer came on Monday to see what Castiel’s surroundings would be. She assured them that she could train him to ring bells to be let out of the houses, he would just have to know what doors to go to. The cottage would be easy but the rambling ranch house might be a challenge. When they explained their unconventional family and she realized that the dog would have to know so many people and at least one child, she decided it was a better course to set a code word for strangers and to teach him to protect the vehicles when he was left in it.

 

“Great.” Dean smiled. “So let everyone spoil up the dog.”

 

* * *

 

Sam had refused to let Carol host even one more party this year, deciding instead that they should go out for New Years and chose a mid scale tavern in town for dinner and dancing. While she argued that he and Dean wouldn’t be able to dance in such a public place, Sam assured her that Dean didn’t really like to dance anyway. The downside again was that Steve and Dave would have to be on duty but would be able to join them for dinner.

 

It was a nice enough place that was going to play way more country than Sam would normally prefer, but Belle and Diana raved about the food. Not as good as Carol’s of course, they assured, but it was a dinner buffet so the boys wouldn’t go hungry. The table they got was almost like their dining table and John and Carol sat at one end with Olivia and Edward at the other.

 

The food was indeed good, even by Carol’s standards and they all had their fill. Contrary to Sam’s assurances, Dean rarely sat, tiring each of the girls in turn before starting over again. Sam and Jer were getting to a pleasant buzz, especially since Belle and Jeremiah had announced a sibling to follow for Baby Jer. John spun his girl around the floor so much that she joked she would be dizzy for a week, but she looked so happy Sam couldn’t help but laugh.

 

Steve and Dave were just getting ready to leave when a group walked behind their table who had arrived just for the dance and for some reason chose to move in to a table just behind them. One by one they realized that Sam had stopped reacting to the conversation they were having. Dean looked at him sidelong frowning at the expression on his face. John looked across the table at the slack jaw. Jer looked over and saw real fear. But it was when Sam met Steve’s eyes that it all fell into place.

 

“Sam?” Steve asked almost hopefully.

 

“That man Steve.” Sam said so low the dance floor could have stolen it only Steve felt like there was nothing around him but vacuum. “It’s him Steve. The big one. That’s the one who spoke to me.”


	39. Finish This

Before the girls sat back down, John had gathered their purses and jackets and met them coming across the dance floor. “Carol; take Sam and the girls, go to the car and have it take you home.”

 

“John?”

 

“Call Benjamin Schacter and have him ready for my call.”

 

“John!?” She called again, more insistent this time. “What is it?”

 

All of the girls were looking at him now, Belle’s liquid doe eyes turned up to him, Olivia’s clinical gaze suspicious. “They’re here.” He swallowed hard, rage and fear fighting for control. “The bastards that attacked Sam, they’re here.”

 

Belle gasped and followed while Olivia sought out Sam. The other three stood fast in front of John. Carol looked from Diana on one side and Mandy on her other and they both nodded for her to speak. “John, we know what you’re going to do.” He started to protest but she held up her hand. “We know it’s the only way. But for you to be able to claim that it was anything but a set up, we have to stay. At least until it gets rough. You worry about what you have to do and I’ll mind the girls.”

 

John looked at her for a long moment wanting so badly to say something, anything to tell her how much this meant to him. He reached out and cradled her cheek in his palm and watched her eyes close as she melted into it for him. “Do you know how much I love you?”

 

“Almost as much as I love you.” She smiled as he leaned in and kissed her, a kiss so full of love and passion. Diana and Mandy leaned behind to meet each other’s eyes with appreciative grins at each other. No Mom kissing here.

 

“Now go John.” Carol stepped back with a sigh. “Finish this.”

 

* * *

 

Steve Randall had cooked this idea up in a moment of sheer frustration and never thought that there was a remote possibility that this could even happen, but he had jokingly or not so jokingly discussed it with all of them and now the opportunity was here and damned if he wasn’t sure he could even go through with it.

 

“Don’t worry Steve.” Dean assured. “I can do this.”

 

“Oh I know you can Dean, I’m just not sure that any of you should.”

 

“But you said . . .”

 

“I know what I said but I was always half full of beer and still so fucking angry, but Dean. . .”

 

By this time Dave and Jer were on their sides. “Steve; listen to me. I know it was a half cocked idea, but you said it yourself, we can’t do anything without the damn DNA.”

 

“Do you know how badly you could get hurt?”

 

“Damn it Steve, I don’t care.”

 

“No but Sam does.” His voice was ice. “And I’m not going to be the one to go face that boy and tell him something’s happened to you . . . or any of you.”

 

Dean looked at him for a long moment and with sudden, startling clarity he saw what Steve had been going through all these months, saw what his own words in the hospital had done. “You don’t think I can handle that the fucking law can’t do anything about it?” That while everyone else had been able to put their lives back together the whole thing hung over Steve since he was the law. That every day that went by, every dead end, every unanswered question was a personal failure. Dean put his hand on Steve’s shoulder and met his eyes. “Steve, we have to end this . . . for everyone.”

 

* * *

 

“Sam?” Olivia’s hand on his seemed to break him out of it despite Belle sitting there calling his name. “Sam, how are you?”

 

He took a deep breath through his nose exhaling through his mouth and nodding his head. “I’m okay.” He looked up meeting their eyes with a weak smile. “I’m not alone this time.”

 

“We girls are all going back to your place shortly and you’ll come with us.” Olivia soothed.

 

“No, Livie, I won’t.”

 

“What?”

 

“You think I’ve just been sitting here trying to find my way back into my shell, but I’ve been watching them all. They don’t think I know, but I’ve figured out what their crazy plan is.” He smiled at her. “They didn’t recruit Edward, did they?”

 

“No, but he’s ready.”

 

Sam chuckled. “God Olivia, he doesn’t even know me.”

 

“He knows you better than you think.”

 

Sam grinned wryly. “Have you been breaking doctor patient privilege?”

 

Her eyes dropped and she gave a little smile. “Maybe a little. You’ve had a huge effect on me Sam and eventually I had to explain some of that.”

 

“Well Edward needs to stay out of this.”

 

Belle turned those doe eyes on him and he knew why Jeremiah did anything she asked. “So do you.”

 

“No. I can’t let them do this for me.” He took one of each of their hands. “I can’t let them fight this for me. I have to at least be part of the solution.” He kissed them each in turn. “I have to end this.”

 

* * *

 

Dave left first to get some distance while Steve went to speak to the owner about some sting operation and assured that reparations would be made by John Winchester but that he was not to call the police until Dean told him to.

 

“But you’re already here, can’t you stop it now.”

 

“I can explain everything later to your utmost satisfaction Mr. Bloom, but for right now, and if you’re ever asked in the future, we never even had this conversation. You didn’t see me here tonight after I had dinner with my wife and family.”

 

Bloom clearly didn’t like the idea, but it was never a good idea to get the law on your bad side, what with liquor licenses a must. “All right Sheriff. When Dean says so, not before.”

 

* * *

 

Dean, John and Jeremiah were sitting at one end of the table trying to decide how best to go about their plan when Sam came to sit with them. Dean turned, completely surprised that Sam was still there.

 

“You were supposed to go with Dave.”

 

“No Dean. I’m supposed to be at your side.”

 

“Not this time Sammy, we got this.”

 

“Dean.” Sam held his eyes without any physical restraint. “You can’t. I can’t let you.” He reached across the table then snagging a few of Dean’s fingers in his own. “We’re partners, Baby, in everything. I have to be part of this.”

 

Dean looked to the others for support but found little. John shrugged a shoulder. “It’s always been about Sam, son. We’re after closure for him. I think he needs to be part of it.”

 

Dean sighed heavily. “I don’t like it. Just so you all know.”

 

Sam just smiled at him until the corners tugged up on Dean’s lips too. “How do you plan to start this?”

 

“I don’t know, we were just trying to figure that out.”

 

“I think I know.” Sam smiled getting up from his seat just as some sappy ballad came on. He held out his hand to Dean. “Dance with me.”


	40. Retribution

When they took the dance floor, they cleared it. The other guests of the tavern didn’t show any outward signs of having any real problem with them dancing, they just seemed to feel something about to happen and didn’t want to be quite so close to it.

 

Dean hitched his thumbs in the belt loops at Sam’s hips as Sam wrapped those long arms around his shoulders. Sam leaned down pressing their foreheads together and smiled at his husband. “Not everyone would consider this kind of risk for someone else even their husband Dean.” Sam smiled. “I just hope you know how much I appreciate this.”

 

“Sam, I can do bar fight in my sleep.” He chuckled. “How about you? You haven’t been in a dust up in a while.”

 

“I’ll be okay, don’t worry.” He smiled again. “I have you to patch me up.”

 

They heard the commotion of chairs scraping against the plank wood floor and knew that this would be it. “I love you Sammy.”

 

“And I love you Dean.” Sam’s eyes were wet, but the tears stayed there. “Never forget that.”

 

Before Dean could respond to that cryptic statement, Sam was torn away from him and he was facing one of Sam’s presumed assailants but before the guy could even get a shot in Dean’s right collided with his jaw. He staggered back, caught completely unaware by Dean’s readiness for his attack. Dean took a step to follow him for another shot when his arm was grabbed from behind and a second sneering asshole spun him around and landed a shot in his belly. All of the air whooshed out of Dean and for a moment he thought he was in real trouble since the first guy was readying to come after him again before Jer stepped in. Jeremiah took the second guy, giving Dean just that second or two to pull in a lung full of air and turn his attention back to the first. Both he and Jeremiah were fairly well matched to their opponents physically and it was going to be more of an endurance battle than a fast run to the finish. Dean kept trying to angle his position back so he could see how Sam and the others were doing, but they seemed like they were ready for that and had no problems keeping the good guys apart. Dean felt his lip split and spit a good deal of his own blood on the floor, and could feel his left eye swelling, but was pretty sure he had dealt more damage to the other side as that guy seemed to be having a bit more trouble breathing.

 

“Do you want to give up?” Dean panted.

 

“Fuck you!”

 

“I’m pretty sure you’d like to.” Dean grinned. The barb had the intended effect and the guy’s anger spurred him on in the wrong way and he came at Dean off balance giving Dean the opportunity to throw more power into a right hook and he finally went down. “But not on my worst day.” Dean took a deep breath and turned looking for Sam.

 

* * *

 

Watching Sam and Dean dancing, Jeremiah could feel the electricity growing in the air. Jer wasn’t quite sure why they didn’t just go to their table and pull them out into the alley and really give them what for, but Steve’s instructions were clear. Let them attack and keep it fair. They had to be the aggressors and no matter how much they might cheat or fight dirty, it was up to us to be the ‘victims’ again.

 

Not how Jeremiah liked to play ball.

 

He sat and he waited and wished that he could have Belle with him, but Carol had her tucked safely away in another corner. They didn’t want there to be any danger that she might get hurt, but Jer could sure use her to calm him down. She was at least half the reason he was here. She looked to Sam as a little brother and his suffering had worried and hurt her almost more than Jeremiah could bear.

 

When the chairs scraped the floor, Jer could swear it sounded like the match set to the tinder. The guy with the voice, the one guy that Sam could identify was on him. He was a shade shorter than Sam, but Sam still hadn’t recovered all of his original bulk and, presumably, strength so the guy probably outweighed him by maybe forty pounds. Jer took a step to help Sam when the second guy took a shot at Dean and Steve’s words came back, as if he would need them. “Keep it fair.”

 

Jeremiah stepped in front of the second guy who had sucker punched Dean. “If you’re bored and need something to do, I can help you out with that.” Jer grabbed the guy by the lapel and knocked him back with a right and then a quick left. He found the same match up as Dean and knew this wasn’t going to be a quick one, but damn he needed to get this over with and find Sam.

 

* * *

 

John Winchester didn’t like this any more than he would find out Jeremiah did. He was never one to go looking for a fight, but he was a man of action, not prone to sitting and waiting so this was driving him crazy. He knew he was to be the last one into this and if no one else joined the fight he would have to sit here and wait for his boys to need him. Not that he was desperate for a fight, but it was all he could do to just sit here and watch. When the third man took a shot at Dean and Jeremiah stepped in he looked for Carol, but she was doing her best not to watch any of it. Then John saw him. Some little weasel trying to sneak in behind Sam even though Sam was more than overmatched already. John was on his feet and in that corner before the weasely guy had even registered him coming. When John stepped between him and his sucker punch at Sam he seemed genuinely surprised. John had size over him, but he was wiry and sneaky and got a few shots in before John subdued him, leaving him unconscious on the floor. John tried to find Sam in all of it, but his eyes fell on Edward first, getting the crap beat out of him. It was all John could do not to laugh as for a guy getting stomped, John had never seen anyone look as happy as Edward did. John stepped in commanding Edward to go sit on the weasel. Did he really just pout? John couldn’t tell through his fat lip, but he was pretty sure.

 

* * *

 

Edward Manning was a real estate lawyer and couldn’t remember ever throwing a punch after grade six or so, but he had so much respect for what Sam had been through and couldn’t imagine refusing the chance to see justice done here. His eyes had followed John because it was only if John was occupied that he might have to jump in. He watched the weasly little man try to sneak up on Sam and John intercept him. Edward first thought that should have been his guy since he seemed to be the littlest and then he watched him pull some dirty stuff on John and was silently glad they hadn’t made decisions based on size.

 

When the fifth guy brought himself to the weasly guy’s defense, part of Edward’s brain was telling him to run for the door, protect the women maybe, but the larger part of it just kept saying “Wheeee!”

 

* * *

 

When Dean had finished with the first guy his priority was to find Sam, but for evil sons-of-bitches they were well organized and there was a sixth man to prevent that.

 

“Oh, no, no.” He growled at Dean. “My boy needs time there.”

 

“Really?” Dean grinned painfully through that broken lip. “Because I heard your boy only needs about two minutes.”

 

These guys really were sensitive. Dean easily deflected the punch he threw and he stumbled off balance directly into Jer’s fist.

 

He shook it off pretty easily but turned to Dean. “Need help, do you pretty boy?”

 

“Do you really think so?” It was all Jer could do to stand back and not laugh his head off. This douche bag seriously thought Dean was responding to him and he blushed, but hesitated enough for Dean to put some power into a left hook. He didn’t dare use his right on this guy and mess up the DNA samples that he already had all over that fist. “I don’t need any help, I’m pretty sure I can beat you with my left hand.”

 

* * *

 

Sam didn’t have to wonder who was coming after him so he was a bit surprised at the shiver of fear that the voice sent through him. “You need lesson two, Winchester?” The big hand grasped Sam’s shoulder and spun him around but he was ready and drove a hard left into the bastard’s kidney.

 

“Good thing you showed me where those were.”

 

“Why you little bitch.” He took a step back sizing Sam up.

 

Sam squared his shoulders. “I might not be so easy to work over without four guys hanging on.” Sam lifted his chin. “Or do you just want to look at my ass again?”

 

That pissed him off, but it was nothing compared to the rage that Sam felt here anew. He didn’t even have to consciously think back, so much of it was coming to him. The smell of this guy, a smoker who’d had to drink too many beers to steel him for what he was going to do. Four cheep colognes all mixed together, one of his attackers wasn’t here, but four was good. The noise of it all and Sam realized that there had been other things said that day as he now remembered their voices.

 

Sam had gotten himself the advantage and followed the kidney shot with a hard right to the jaw. A grunt escaped him as he felt a bone crack somewhere in his hand. The big guy didn’t need much recovery from that, however, and his powerful fist came up into Sam’s ribs which huffed the air out of him. “Those ribs healed yet?”

 

Sam’s face didn’t register the pain from the newly re-broken bones as he got hold of the big guy’s lapels and used one of his long legs to his advantage bringing a knee up into his opponent’s abdomen and was supremely satisfied with the sound of the crack that he heard. “Why don’t you tell me?” Sam didn’t give him any time for recovery this time as he threw the right and a quick left. His right split the lip, his wedding ring left a nice gash under the left eye and as he wrapped his left hand in the bastard’s lapel Sam smiled.

 

“What the fuck are you so pleased about?” He asked spitting a mouthful of blood on Sam’s shoe. “Even if you win here, you can’t get back what we did to you.”

 

“Really?” Sam sneered at him. “What exactly is it you think you took from me? Dignity?” Sam’s right fist connected solidly. “My friends know everything about that day and still look me in the eye. Self-respect?” Another right. “I found strength in myself that I didn’t know I had. My relationship?” Sam watched him grimace at that so leaned closer. “My husband? My lover?” Sam’s hand hurt, but he was making a point after all and struck again. “Thanks to you we’re stronger than ever. So you’re right, I can’t get back what you took, but what I can do is get past it.” Sam raised his hand to strike again, but the face before him was fairly pulped already. It seemed suddenly that Dean was at his side.

 

“Cops are coming back.” He tried to wrest the fabric from Sam’s left hand but it seemed like he was almost cramped up. “Let it go Sammy.” Sam finally focused on Dean’s face and a small smile tugged at his lips just before his knees gave away. He fell against Dean, but there was a chair behind him so quick Dean never had to carry the weight. “Sammy? Baby? You good?”

 

Sam looked down at the blood on his hands and even though the breath it took to chuckle made him wince he smiled. “We got them Dean. I’m gonna be just fine.”


	41. Epilogue

Sam sat at the top of the rise on Blue Steel, who had never once been called anything but Blue, and surveyed his world. Castiel, who was challenging Blue for the title of ‘Ranch’s Biggest Eater’, sat fast on the ground beside his master waiting for any command.

 

A year since he’d finished school, a year and a half since he’d chosen Dean. He was pretty sure most people didn’t have to deal with as much drama as they had in these last eighteen months. Then again, Sam thought people who had no drama invented their own.

 

In the end, the man that had led the vicious attack on Sam was Matthew Fillion who stood trial with companions Bruce Burns, Stanley Turner and Guy Battams. They all refused to give up the fifth who had been in on Sam’s attack, but Sam never seemed bothered because after threatening an open courtroom with television coverage Fillion had no problem giving up Lucky Pearson as the paymaster for the worst day of Sam’s life. Lucky had tried to claim that he only wanted Sam roughed up, but Fillion had the presence of mind to tape that conversation and the command to “Fuck him up bad.” was interpreted as criminal intent. When the doctor had taken the stand and gone through all of Sam’s injuries he sat stock still between Dean and Carol. Then the doctor told the court that if Max Logan hadn’t driven past when he did and called paramedics, Sam’s condition could easily have worsened leading to his death. Dean nearly lost it there, but Sam just took his hand quietly and Dean pulled it together. Sam’s lawyer made a hasty motion to amend the charges to attempted murder and it was all over. They all pled guilty to the hate crimes and while they were shortened prison sentences, they were also registered sex offenders and try explaining that for the rest of your life.

 

Needless to say Max Logan received a side of beef.

 

* * *

 

They never replaced Lucky as a hand on the ranch. There wasn’t enough horse wrangling to do to hire a whole guy to do it when Dean easily had the skills. Dean didn’t mind; he already did all the other animal stuff that didn’t go to the vet; it was his gift from his dad.

 

Sam and John easily filled in places when extra hands were needed. The next round up was going to be their guy weekend this year with Steve, Dave and Edward coming along. Sam was hoping the Sunday morning ride wasn’t going to be too hung over, but he couldn’t remember looking so forward to anything either. Sam had smiled when Edward asked to try riding but the joke had been on him when he took to the back of a horse like walking.

 

Belle was glowing even though this pregnancy was giving her more trouble than baby Jer had but, with all her men in good places, Carol needed someone to look after. Diana announced their own bundle on the way and Mandy and Dave had decided to take the plunge but Mandy laughed and said she wouldn’t set her date until the baby bumps were dealt with or she’d be standing at the front of the church by herself.

 

Steve finally went to take Olivia up on her offer and between that and talking to Sam about it, he was in a much better place. He was super excited about his baby coming and the new chapter in his life. Sam had talked him out of tendering his resignation by assuring him that the county could only benefit from a Sheriff who cared so much.

 

John had turned over the deed, but he was still the man in charge. He loved that his boys left him no work to do and he just went out doing fences for fun. After all these years Sam had finally talked Carol up into the saddle and much to no one’s surprise but her own, she loved riding. So nowadays it was Sam and Dean who stayed home while John and Carol would ride out to do the two day run but only in optimum weather of course. John and Carol took a two and a half week honeymoon in Europe while Sam and Dean just went away for a week-end every month. No one ever asked, but most of them kind of suspected they were just going to places where they could dance.

 

* * *

 

Dean? Dean never really changed, not that Sam would want him to. He was every inch the macho cowboy until the door shut on their cottage and Sam tickled that place behind his ear or his knee and then he was Sam’s girl. Sam smiled to himself. He would tease him with that, but of course Dean was anything but a girl. Sam still had to wonder at himself for not seeing what was right in front of him all those years. Wasted time, wasted emotion. He couldn’t chide himself for it now; Dean was his protector, his best friend, his husband . . . his everything. Dean filled him up like nothing else and no matter where they went or what they did, Sam Winchester was the richest man alive for it.

 

Dean’s voice crackled over the walkie. “Hey boss man, you’re losing a few calves up there.” Sam looked over his shoulder where the calves in question were wandering over the hill. He clicked his tongue and Castiel looked up at him expectantly. “Collect.” Was all he said and the dog was off to redirect the wandering livestock.

 

“Better?” He called back to Dean.

 

“You know, when I sat up there, calves didn’t get away.” Dean tried though Jer’s peals of laughter might have given him away. He gave Sam two sharp whistles signaling him to change to channel two. “You okay Sam?” Dean asked much softer.

 

“Yea Dean, just thinking.”

 

“About me?” That beautiful grin could be heard down the line.

 

And no matter who else or what else occupied his thoughts, Sam could honestly say, “Always.”


End file.
